Exitus Acta Probat
by TwinkieMain
Summary: Centuries of conflict takes its toll on Eostia, leaving little to be resolved by the Goddess Reincarnate, Celestine Lucross. Without an endgame in sight, hopelessness begins to fall on the people of the tired country. However, no one foresaw the arrival of an unknown party, who all come from beyond the stars themselves. None of them ever foresaw the fiery phoenix that was the UNSC.
1. Something has happened

**AN: Side project I'm somewhat intend on doing. To put it simply, this involves Kuroinu: Kedakaki Seijo wa Hakudaku ni Somaru, a series that I've... more or less _accidentally_ stumbled upon. It has a pretty straightforward plot, with a group of mercenaries getting sick and tired of being ordered around by a bunch of skimpy-clad women, and they initiate a nation-wide Sex Empire with all females subservient to men. **

**Most, if not all, of the episodes were extremely one-sided, and the ending was kind of disappointing. So I thought, "Hey, would a lone, once-forgotten ship change** **anything?"**

 **Slightly inspired by Wimblegurk Brigade's "The Celestial" challenge. T Rating might change next chapter.**

* * *

 **Exitus Acta Probat**

 **Prologue: Something has happened**

 **Official Status: Lost with all hands**

 **Location: Enroute to UNSC-controlled space**

 **Date: [March 28, 2559] [06:00 UNSC Standard Military Time]**

* * *

Deep within the recess of the vast darkness, a lone warship drifted through the void, passing by a nearby body of rock. The pitch black environment around the ship casted the long repaired Titanium-A hull with a dark, cold blanket, and the six fusion drives it was using constantly pushed the old vessel at a leisurely, sub-luminal speed.

The two and a half kilometer ship, the UNSC _Spirit of Fire_ , had sacrificed its slipspace drive to deny a powerful enemy of a fleet of even more powerful relics of war. It would cost the ship and its crew the advantage of FTL travel, but it was a small price to pay for the survival of humanity as a whole.

Now, after a twenty-eight year period of drifting through space, the _Phoenix_ -class support vessel still had a long way to go before it could even come close to UNSC space. The crew had been put into cryo-sleep, and most of the onboard systems were shut down to conserve power with the various weapon systems idle but at the ready. It was a long and tedious journey, but considering the lack of options, it was a brutal waiting game the crew would have to endure.

The sensors onboard the _Spirit of Fire_ remained operational throughout the slow interstellar trip, sweeping the nearby stellar bodies for something even remotely interesting. Unfortunately, nothing had been detected, and the sensors continued their long-range sweep without incident.

Planetary data collected by the sensors traveled into the empty bridge's computers, processed and stored for any relevant information to be reviewed. It was a procedure that was capable of operating without human supervision, and with no naval personnel available, it was a system that proved to be efficient.

A few hours passed, and the UNSC ship had finished passing by an asteroid field when one of the _Spirit_ 's sensors had detected something. A loud ping echoed throughout the vacant bridge. It was faint, but the ship's sub systems began locking onto it before the anomaly had the chance to disappear.

Next, they began scrubbing and cleaning the oddity, with the systems processing the relevant data they could quickly gather. After a few moments, the results became rather clear.

It was a signal, coming though on a UNSC frequency. The broadcast was messy and rough, but it was coherent enough for the ship's communication system to understand.

 _"May, *day, *ay* - Th* * UNSC E****** req* imme* r* - S*s *rd, Priori* c: V* Z* *e *h T*"_

To say the least, the subroutine systems may be nowhere near as intelligent as a dumb or smart AI, but they had enough processing power to realize the presence of another UNSC vessel. Immediately, the _Spirit of Fire_ 's systems began activating a series of directives left behind by the ship's late AI.

Rerouted power from the deuterium fusion reactors began to spread throughout the inactive vessel, with a speed that would be too fast for human perception. Lights that were powered down for decades reactivated, providing the dark and vast hallways with some much needed illumination.

Weapon systems that had been laying dormant within the ship's hull for a long time started to function once more. Bow mounted Archer missiles, 50mm point defense turrets, and the vessel's ten quad-barreled deck guns aimed in every direction, with the three primary MAC batteries the _Spirit of Fire_ contained on her upper bow slowly warming up for combat.

At the rear of the ship, the six main fusion drives began to flare with a flash of bright light, promptly moving the support vessel towards her intended destination.

Within the ship's bridge, the passive atmosphere that had stayed faithful to the quiet status quo started to change. Monitors that had been offline for so long reactivated, showing various lines of coding and data streaming throughout the systems.

The pair of blast shield plating that covered the main observation window from the outside, in conjunction with other smaller shield plating, slowly opened up, revealing the vast darkness of space, and a vague light that illuminated the compartment like moonlight from a bedroom window.

Deep in the interior of one of the vessel's cryo bays, the cryo pods that held the sleeping crew inside started the thawing process, directed by one of the ship's sub systems. After a few minutes, multiple crew members stumbled out of their pods one by one.

They coughed violently and gathered their senses, while some immediately hurled out the bronchial surfactant from their lungs. Those who were not quick enough to recover from the wake cycle would often fall nearly face first onto the ground until a more conscious crewman or a technician would catch them, and settle them down to regain their senses.

One of the said individuals was Captain James Cutter, the commanding officer of the _Spirit_ _of_ _Fire_. The older man found himself feeling the brief sensation of falling, a numb and weightless cloud messing with his senses. Mere seconds later, the semi-conscious man felt a pair of arms catch him before he could hit the ground, and found himself slowly being lowered down on the floor.

Cutter curled over immediately, regurgitating the clear liquid that had been residing in his lungs. He felt a hand gently pat his back.

"Take it easy, Captain. The disorientation should pass quickly."

Cutter blinked his eyes, finding it difficult to see through the foggy haze. "Who?"

"Lieutenant Commander Vallum, sir. It's good to see you again." The individual stood up.

The Captain nodded, grimacing at the foul taste of the medical fluid flowing down his throat, "Likewise Commander. What's the situation?"

LCDR Vallum shook her head, "I'm not exactly sure, Captain. Everyone else is starting to wake up from cryo-sleep, so something must have happened."

The fifty-two year old man silently agreed with her, running a hand through his greying hair. Something must have definitely happened to have prompted an emergency response for the crew's cryonic thawing. But without any proper insight, the Captain was just as clueless as any of the other personnel.

Hopefully, Serina would remedy that. The AI's snarky personality and dry humor would make any situation more interesting, even in the face of perilous danger. The crew, including the Captain, shared a special fondness for her as a result.

"Has anyone received word from Serina yet?" Cutter asked. He received a thoughtful frown in response.

"Not since the thawing process had begun," His subordinate sighed, either from weariness or from her recovering lungs, "I'm sorry, sir, but I have no idea what's going on. This is a really confusing situation."

The Captain recuperated partially enough to stand up on his recovering legs, groaning from the pain of freezer burn. He patted the Chief Engineer on the shoulder, "You and everyone else, Commander."

Cutter began a light jog to the senior staff's locker room adjacent to the cryo bay, with the LCDR not far behind.

"Get everyone else situated, and make sure the ship is fully operational by the time I get to the bridge."

The officer behind him saluted, "Yes, sir."

Vallum turned into an opposite hallway, leaving Cutter to enter the locker room by himself. He opened his personal locker, and snatched the naval uniform from the rack.

Taking a moment to inspect his outfit, he slowly looked over the olive, double-breasted tunic, brushing over the black shoulder padding. His thumb caressed the golden insignia of a UNSC Captain, a golden oak leaf with four chevrons nesting underneath it, and his eyes fell to the ship's emblem that would be resting on his left breast and right shoulder.

A black bird, bearing a red and golden shield on top of a light blue background — the fiery Phoenix.

A wave of nostalgia washed over him, and Cutter let out a short breath before starting the process of putting on his uniform. Latching the last strap on, the weary man gazed at the final piece of the puzzle. He reached inside the locker and pulled out his cap, eying the seal that gleamed from the room's overhead lights.

Printed proudly on the fabric was a silver eagle, spreading out its wings with the banner of the UNSC wrapped around a globe of Earth in a resolute grip. A formidable symbol, which demonstrated an equally formidable force.

The lines of his mouth rose briefly as he donned the cap, adjusting it over his greying hair. After a moment, Cutter stood there and inspected himself with a nearby mirror. Straightened posture, confident eyes, and the combat-ready uniform smoothly completed the picture.

He felt like his old self again.

Turning around, he left the room and began the journey to his intended destination. Cutter made sure to take slow but stable steps, so his recovering legs wouldn't give out during the jog. Passing Marines and crew members would respectfully salute him, and he often made sure to return them before continuing onward.

It slowed him down on occasion, but Cutter felt obligated to show the same respect his crew had been giving him. They were his people, his extended family, and he had no doubt that they had felt the same way ever since the battle on that strange planet decades ago. Their unwavering determination and skill had been put to the trial on that faithful day.

In the end, his trust in his crew had been well worth it. He practically owed his life to them.

Now, that same trust will once again be tested in this new, unfamiliar scenario.

After half an hour of purposeful walking, he stopped at a pair of massive doors. Guarding abreast to each other, two Marines gave him crisp salutes to which he immediately returned before the doors to the elevator began to open up. With a small sigh, Cutter collected himself and casually stepped inside.

He turned around as the doors closed off the lift with a simple click.

The ride down didn't take too long, but the eerie silence and the stark darkness of space outside the lift's window made it seem to stretch on forever. Although, only thirty seconds had actually past, and the elevator finally finished its brief downward descent to the _Spirit of Fire_ 's observation deck. The lift's doors opened up, and the Captain was immediately rewarded with a sight that brought a small smile to his face.

Stepping inside the room, Cutter's weary eyes tracked Professor Ellen Anders, the ship's resident genius, who was swiftly pacing around the transparent floors of the deck.

In Anders's hands was a tablet, her eyes absentmindedly reading the contents inside. The brightness of the screen illuminated her attractive face, contrasting the blackness of space that the observation deck's glass surfaces provided to stunning effect. The ONI civilian was dressed in her normal Arcadian clothing, which consisted of an orange and black shirt, dark cargo pants, and a white lab coat that hung around her shoulders in a comfortable embrace.

Around her, numerous amounts of scientific equipment lay around the room, supplemented with a chaotic mess of wires and other supplies spread on the floor in a disorderly fashion. From the corner of his eyes, the Captain could see the small samples of 'Forerunner' technology collected from Harvest, Arcadia, and the shield world, sitting in their respective specimen tanks scattered across the room. Silently, Cutter couldn't help but feel relieved that the alien artifacts themselves weren't tampered with during their long interstellar journey.

He turned to Anders, who didn't even notice him by then, and brought a closed hand up to clear his throat.

" _Ahem_."

A loud cough announced his presence, and interrupted the oblivious woman out of her distracted state. Caught off guard, Professor Anders sharply turned her head towards the perpetrator, her brown eyes widening in brief surprise.

"Oh." Anders had the grace to blush slightly, "Good morning, Captain."

"Good morning to you too, Professor." Cutter couldn't help but chuckle, "How was your sleep?"

"Like any other, to be honest." Anders couldn't help but snort faintly.

She rubbed her arms with a slight shiver, "Although, I could do without the freezer burns."

"You and everyone else." The Captain nodded with a slight grimace.

The initial pain that had been pouring over his skin finally receded into a slight itch, but it still made Cutter no less uncomfortable. It was especially difficult with his tight, combat-ready uniform regularly scratching the bothersome blisters all over his body.

Hands behind his back, he began to walk around the makeshift lab. His blue eyes inspected the various equipment around him.

"Do you have any clue to where we are?" Cutter asked with a raised eyebrow.

Anders shook her head as she leaned over the main holo-table, "I have no idea."

With a wave of her hand, a multitude of holographic data was projected from the terminal, "Our astronavigation systems can't pinpoint a location. We're still not on any charted map." She said, manipulating the display with precise ease.

"Either we're still a long way from UNSC territory, or it's something else." The woman pinched her nose in brief frustration.

The Captain made his way next to Anders, giving a comforting pat on her shoulder, "One problem at a time, Professor."

He turned towards the holo-terminal, his hand manipulating the holographic display in a manner not too dissimilar to the scientist. A dossier of the sensor's records appeared, and Cutter began to inspect the files with narrowed eyes. With each thread of data read intently, the Captain's mouth slowly settled into a grim line.

"Sensor logs don't show any evidence of Čerenkov radiation, and the ship's still missing a Slipspace drive, so FTL travel is out of the equation." Cutter turned to Anders, "Now, that begs the question of how we got here."

Anders shrugged her shoulders, "Any ship can still travel long distances at sub-light speeds, if granted enough time. It's possibly the same situation for us, given the circumstances."

"If that's the case, then where did the ship go? Where are we?" Cutter tilted his head.

The woman gave a puzzled frown, and let her eyes drop down to the floor. Suddenly, her jaw found itself hanging slightly in astonishment, "I think we may have already found our answer, Captain."

Confused, Cutter steadily followed her stare. And almost immediately, he felt his eyes widen in surprise, and his gaze became transfixed at the unexpected object of their bewilderment.

Below their feet was the spherical shape of a terrestrial planet, treating them with an array of exotic details. Vibrant colors of blue, brown, and green were reflected through the observation deck's glass surfaces.

The two could easily make out the vast continents placed asymmetrically all around the globe's surface, as well as the broad bodies of water that surrounded the large land masses. From their position, they could even see the immaterial forms of delicate clouds spread across the atmosphere, with the northern and southern ice caps placed in their respective end of the equators.

The stunning sight almost left the observers in complete awe.

Anders didn't bother to hide her amazement as her baffled mind began to race with hundreds of possibilities and theories. Cutter, on the other hand, was more conservative with his reaction, but he still felt no less astounded than his civilian counterpart. His analytical mind took in the planet's rich, untouched appearance like an eager sponge, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the world's natural beauty.

He also didn't ignore the creeping sense of suspicion that rose from the corners of his subconscious.

"Why did we stop here?" The admiration in his eyes was replaced with a cautious glint, and his face wrinkled into an expression of skepticism.

A moment later, Anders tapped on the screen of her tablet for a moment before she promptly threw it on the holo-table. Once the device made contact with the terminal, a rotating projection of the planet appeared before them, giving the pair a better detailed view of the world's pristine surface.

"It's possible that something down there had drawn the _Spirit of Fire_ to this location, but the question of _why_ is something I do not know." The woman studied the hologram with the precision of a microscope, "Without any more information, it'll take some time to triangulate its origin."

Anders gave Cutter a succinct look, "I'll start working on it immediately, but anything useful would help in the long run, sir."

Cutter stared at her evenly, "Dutifully noted, Professor." He replied.

Once Anders nodded and shifted her attention to begin her work, Cutter continued to shift through the sensor logs as he searched for anything of good use. So far, nothing of relevance had been found, and the lack of progress was evident through the growing expression of slight irritation on his face. The logs had an unusually large amount of data in them, he noted in concern.

Cutter couldn't help but let out a small sigh at the inconvenience, waving his hand through the holograms as if he was skimming through a large piece of literature. The personal search would have gone longer than the Captain originally liked, had not it been for a crackle of static that diverted the attention of the preoccupied pair.

" _Captain Cutter, sir._ " The artificial voice of one of the bridge crew, Lieutenant Green, flowed through the lab, " _A_ _pologies for the interruption, but I have something that you might want to see._ "

The calm and professional tone of the junior officer carried a subtle urgency with it, and Cutter felt his interest rise along with one of his eyebrows.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" The Captain inquired.

The response was almost immediate, " _We found two packages sitting in one of the systems: an isolated sensor log, and—_ " There was a brief hesitation, " _—an audio message, from Serina, sir._ "

That caught their attention immediately. Both Cutter and Anders looked at each other with worried glances.

The Captain, especially, didn't expect the latter statement. Why would Serina leave a message? Did something happen to her? Looking back down to the holo-table, Cutter didn't fail to notice how Anders's brown eyes seemed to steel by a notable fraction. He frowned faintly, wondering if she somehow knew something that he did not.

"Send them both to my location. I want to her what she has to say."

" _Yes, sir._ " Lieutenant Green closed the comm channel.

A moment later, the holographic representation of the detached sensor log and the audio message was brought up, both ready to become opened. With narrowed eyes, Cutter touched several keys on the display's touchscreen. A few seconds later, the audio clip opened up for him and Anders to listen attentively. There was a moment of silence as a brief delay made them wait for a bit.

 _INCOMING COMMS:_

 _SHIPBOARD ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE_

 _SNA 1292-4 SERINA_

Eventually, a voice came through, permeating the observation deck with a familiar British accent, " _Good morning, Captain._ "

Both Cutter and Anders didn't bother to hide their smiles, more than glad to hear the AI's voice once again.

" _If you are hearing this message, then it means something has happened,"_

Serina paused for a moment, "It _probably also means that I wasn't there to give you a good slap in the derrière when you wake up._ "

A brief chuckle was shared between the two at the farcical jab, but they opted to continue listening to the recording.

" _However, digression aside, I'll try my best to keep this brief. Knowing you, Captain, you wouldn't want to waste time with something as mundane as a mere recording._ "

Cutter couldn't disagree more, and the undisguised frown on his face showed how much he felt otherwise. The implications of what Serina was saying began to put the perplexed Captain on slight edge.

From the corner of his perception, he saw how Anders had a similar reaction. However, there seemed to be a subtle, underlying sense of understanding behind it.

What was she hiding?

" _If the date is correct, then we've been adrift for just over twenty-eight years, and the_ Spirit of Fire _is in a situation I—_ " Once again, there was a brief hesitation, " _—could not anticipate. I'm positively sure that the good Professor would enjoy that little admission, so for the sake of my dignity, let's keep this between us, shall we_?"

Anders snorted indignantly. It was already too late for that.

" _I've made quite a few repairs while you were sleeping, so most of the damage done at the shield world is gone and the ship systems are at one hundred percent. Cryo worked well and medstats on all remaining crew are green. As for me, well..."_ Cutter could imagine the AI stopping to take in a deep breath, "... _regulations are clear about_ final dispensation _at the end of AI's seven year lifespan_."

At the last statement, the Captain felt a sinking feeling begin to grow within him. But for his sake, he forced himself to continue listening.

" _I took care of my own arrangements rather than wake you. I didn't want to..._ " Her tone became resigned, "... _well, I hope you can forgive this final breach of protocol._ "

Serina seemed to steady herself for a moment, " _It was a pleasure and an honor to serve with you, sir. Do look after everyone for me, would you?_ "

Suddenly, the AI's somber voice began to crack, as if she was catching herself from crying aloud. Cutter felt his hands tighten around the edges of the holo-table, his expression becoming unreadable. Anders lowered her face to the ground, her face curling with no hidden sadness.

" _Goodbye, Captain. Serina out._ "

With her final words, the audio message finally ended with a solemn click of static. For a few seconds, nothing but silence filled the darkened observation deck.

Lifting her head, Anders bit her lips, almost afraid to face the oddly silent Captain, "Sir, I'm _—_ "

However, the Professor was interrupted before she could even continue.

"Ellen." Cutter's use of her first name startled Anders into a quiet stillness, "If there's anything you're not telling me, I need to know _now_."

The stern glare from the stone-faced Captain left no room for any argument, "What happened?"

For a moment, the brief silence became palpable enough to be cut by a knife. Finding herself trapped in a corner, Anders met his flinty eyes, sighing as she shook her head slightly.

"About six years after we went adrift, in 2537, there was an _—_ " The woman paused to find the right word, " _—incident_ that happened on the ship. Do you remember the alien parasite that we encountered back on the shield world?"

Cutter nodded, shuddering slightly at the memory of the abominations' grotesque appearance. Vaguely remembering the parasite's unsuccessful boarding attempt on his ship, the Captain could never forget the appalling mutations afflicted on his men, their horrified faces captured vividly from the live cameras of the surviving ground forces. Cutter felt a brief chill go done his spine.

"I...do." A puzzled eyebrow was raised, "What about them?"

Anders sighed, rubbing her temples, "It turns out that the 'cleansing rings' you told me about wasn't able to clear out all of the aliens. At least one of the pod creatures somehow stowed away on the ship for six years before it managed to infect one of our technicians."

The horror on Cutter's face was clearly evident, and he began to open his mouth until Anders raised her hand to stop him, "That said, the parasite did have a chance to spread briefly before it was contained, and we haven't seen a single trace of them ever since."

The Captain's worried expression died down for a bit, but the frown on his face showed he wasn't at least done with the topic yet.

"And are you sure that they aren't any more on my ship?" He questioned.

"We're technically still here." Anders shrugged her shoulders, "Otherwise, the _Spirit of Fire_ would be a floating nest for those things by now."

Cutter nodded begrudgingly, "I see your point."

The older man had no choice but to be satisfied with her answer, although he knew it wouldn't hurt to be more careful. His cautiousness wasn't entirely unfounded, given how incredibly _dangerous_ those parasitic aliens were firsthand.

"And Serina?" Cutter asked with a raised eyebrow, "What does she have to do with this?"

In response, Anders looked down, reminiscent of the memories that seemed to have happened yesterday. She knew this was to be the hardest part for her to explain.

"By the time the incident happened, Serina was already in the final stages of her rampancy."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, "Instead of taking appropriate counter-measures, she quarantined the area to study the alien's behavior and accidentally allowed it to breed more of the pod creatures. To say the least, she realized her slip-up the hard way, and she had to wake me up from cryo-sleep so we could eject the damn things into space."

The professor sighed, "Everything after that, Captain, is left to the imagination. I don't know what happened after I went back to sleep, but I wouldn't put past Serina to amend for her mistake somehow. She's smart enough to not think otherwise."

Cutter took it all in wordlessly, his face unreadable to the awaiting civilian. Anders swore she saw a tinge of _something_ in the Captain's eyes before it was eventually masked by his distinctive, calm professionalism.

There was a brief moment of silence between the two. Then, a moment later, Cutter turned his head to the holo-terminal.

"I see." He said finally.

Suddenly, the Captain's entire posture began to change. Standing up straighter, he twisted his slightly hunched back into the paradigm of a stone statue, shifting his hands from the table to behind his back.

His previously stoic expression morphed into one of determination, not undeterred but _fueled_ by the loss of a close friend. With the subtle change of his figure, Cutter looked more like a soldier awaiting the posthumous burial of a fellow comrade.

"Regardless of her actions, Serina was still a important member of this ship and she will be regarded as such." His eyes locked onto Anders's own, "Her legacy will become our own, and we will continue to fight on to honor her sacrifice. That, I promise."

He regarded the stunned professor with a calculating stare, "Do you agree?"

Anders didn't have anything to say at first. She remembered the first time she met Serina. It wasn't a bad first meeting, but it wasn't a pleasant either, given the sardonic remarks they would often throw at each other.

However, she appreciated the AI's efficiency and competence when it was necessary, but not so more than the surprisingly human nature that belied her indifferent, almost apathetic character. In a way, the professor missed Serina a lot more than she was willing to admit.

"I do." Anders's expression was resolute.

Cutter nodded, "Good."

Turning around, he changed the hologram once more until it replaced the audio message with the the object of their shifted interest: the isolated sensor log. Cutter opened the package, revealing to the observers a weak but recognizable signal, coming through on a UNSC frequency.

"Now onto the business of our mysterious signal." He murmured.

Anders studied the holographic message throughly, "Like I said before, it will take some time to triangulate the signal's origins without any sufficient surface details, although I can give a rough location if that's enough for you, Captain. It'll be easier to pick it up once we have boots on the ground."

Cutter nodded, relieved that something was going on now. For better or worse, they had taken their first steps of finding out what was on the planet below, mysteriously reaching out to them.

"In the situation we're in right now, rough is better than nothing." He pressed a button on the terminal, opening up the comm channel, "Cutter to Jerome."

The stoic voice of Jerome-092, leader of Red Team, responded over the channel immediately, " _Reporting, Captain._ "

"Prep Spartan Red Team and a small recon squad. Professor Anders will send you coordinates."

With minor taps of her finger on the holo-table, Anders sent the coordinates through the established channel without a single moment of pause.

"Find out who's sending that signal. Be on the ground within the hour, travel light." Cutter ordered.

He could imagine the Spartan nodding in response, " _Roger that, Captain. Recon only._ "

The comm channel ended with a click of static, the glowing light of the holo-table disappearing along with it. Cutter turned to Anders, letting out a tired sigh that was more befitting for his age.

"Twenty-eight years, Professor."

His eyes dropped down to the transparent floor of the Observation Deck, "Let's see what kind of galaxy we woke up to."

Anders nodded mutely and followed the Captain's example, mirroring his gaze. The both of them observed the untouched surface of the planet below their feet, unaware of the impending future that will await them.

Their journey, along with the entirety of the _Spirit of Fire_ , had only just begun.

* * *

Celestine Lucross didn't know where she was.

Looking around, the confused and nervous woman found the massive fog that covered her surrounding to be quite unnerving. A chilly gust of wind blew all around her, causing Celestine to subconsciously wrap her arms around herself to stave off the cold.

It didn't help much at all, given the sense of dread that began to grow within her. Swarms of butterflies pounded the walls of her stomach.

Pursing her lips, the woman took a few tentatives steps forward, realizing that staying in one spot wouldn't help solve the mystery of where she was. One step from another, it didn't take too long before the fog began to clear away. Celestine smiled with relief, hoping that she would have a clear view of where she currently was.

Then the fog vanished, and her smile instantly disappeared into a gape of shock and horror.

The scene before her was the absolute pinnacle of destruction. Multiple buildings she could tell that had been the shining examples of beautiful architecture were now reduced to smoldering shells of their former selves.

Blazing pockets of fire lingered around the foundations, like vultures picking away at the bodies of the dead, with Celestine's eyes becoming assaulted with tears from the dust that permeated the noxious air. A speck of ash landed on her bare shoulder, and she let out a pained grimace before wiping away the offending speck with a quick swipe of her hand.

Celestine looked around more carefully, taking curious note of strange metal debris littering the ground around her. She gazed down to see the soles of her sandals slightly pressing down on the soft mud that was her purchase, and promptly stepped forward so she wouldn't have to sink down any further.

The devastation made her feel nauseated, her knees nearly weak with disgust. A feeling of anxiety began to bite at the woman, so she brought her hands up in a move that most desperate people would have done in her situation.

"Hello!" She called out loudly.

No one answered her. Gritting her teeth lightly, Celestine took in another deep breath of dusty air.

" _Hello_!" She yelled again.

Her voice echoed through the ruined field to no avail. Celestine, nervous as she was, didn't let the mocking silence deter her efforts.

"Is anyone there?!" She cried out once more.

In an unsurprising repeat of the previous two attempts, her shouts were only met with the still quietness of the ravaged field.

Celestine sighed with resignation, letting her arms drop to her sides. She should had known better than to go on a fool's errand.

With nothing else to lose, the woman began to walk further forward, eventually finding herself within the vicinity of the devastated buildings. Massive walls and pillars create an eerie maze of some sort, and Celestine found a sense of fascination overcoming her disgust as she scanned the infrastructure for any sign of activity.

Then something on the ground caught her eye.

Celestine bent to her knees, reaching to pick up the strange object from the wet mud. Caressing the smooth, slightly dented texture with her thumb, she inspected the item in her hands curiously.

It had a light brown color with a large opening that revealed the hollow space within, unusual cushioning placed in every corner. A pane of orange glass covered the upper half of the opening, which she perceived to be some sort of protection. She juggled it in her dainty hands, noting the slight heaviness in its weight. A helmet, Celestine began to realize.

Against her better judgement, she was about to place the helmet on her head when a sudden blur of movement flew right past her.

The startled Celestine whipped her head to the side, unaware of the discarded helmet falling from her grasp. With wide eyes, she saw an armored man race towards somewhere, seemingly oblivious to her presence. The woman immediately felt relief, moments away from calling out to him when another surge of motion caused her to frantically turn her head again.

Then there was another.

And another.

Even more began to fill her vision.

It didn't take long until an entire _wave_ of armored individuals rushed past her, as if she was a rock in a flowing river. They were all encased in bizarre armor, with the same design and tan color scheme, and unusual black objects tucked in their hands. The quickened pace of their dash showed that the armored newcomers were in some sort of hurry, and Celestine was quick to realize that every single one of them have the same destination.

With a fascinated gaze, the woman watched all of them eventually stop at the devastated buildings, taking cover behind the stone foundations.

One of the armored individuals raised a closed fist. In response, the rest of his comrades began to tense, scanning the environment with their barreled rods. Then the man with the closed hand released his fist into a directing gesture, and his compatriots quickly began to move from their cover.

From behind them, Celestine tilted her head, questioning the reason for their movements when her ears picked up a strange sound.

It sounded like a low pulse, growing slightly louder with each passing second. The armored men seemed to take notice as well, with a couple of them facing the direction of the unusual noise in bewilderment. Unable to take her eyes off of the scene before her, Celestine held her breath in without even realizing as she brought her hands up to her chest with intense dread. For a second, nothing seemed to happen.

Then the moments that followed became the most terrifying thing she had seen in her entire life.

Time seemed to delay into a snail's pace, and Celestine could easily see one of the men's mouth slowly open into a gape of shock when the wall he faced seemingly _shattered_ into many pieces. The man was thrown like a rag-doll from the sheer force of the flying stones, and then _something_ came barreling out from the moving debris. The rest of the fallen man's comrades turned in slight panic, aiming their black rods to confront their new adversary.

The slowed perception of time allowed Celestine to see flashes of bright light produced from the barrels of their hand-held objects, and she jumped with a startled cry when her ears picked up sharp cracks of thunder. Under the barrage of flying metal, the strange creature let out a feral snarl before it swung a massive hammer.

Bodies of stone and men were sent flying into the air with ease, and the massive being let out a roar of rage before it continued on its devastating rampage. More of the same creature began to join the fight, charging through the walls and blasting away the armored men amidst showers of rock and debris.

Frightened, Celestine couldn't help but stay rooted to her spot as she watched the scene with horrified eyes. Then she heard the crunch of pressed mud, suddenly feeling a presence approaching from behind her.

The woman turned her head to see a lone man slowly walk up beside her, watching the chaotic battle with a stern gaze. The man's strange outfit, consisting of olive clothing, black boots, and a small hat, was an obvious mystery to Celestine, although the glint in his eyes was an entirely different story. It was sharp, almost analytical in a sense, and smoothly complemented the man's wrinkled but calm features. The woman could easily tell from his expression alone that he was a leader of some sort.

Celestine opened her mouth for a question, but suddenly felt her breath hitch when the man's penetrating gaze fell upon her.

Soft green eyes met the orbs of rigid blue, with both individuals beginning to stare down each other for what seemed like an eternity. Celestine shook slightly, daring not to let out a sound in front of the strange man. Then, for a brief moment, she found the courage to do so.

"Who are you?" She questioned nervously.

The man didn't respond at first, seemingly interested in making her more uncomfortable. Celestine felt the heat of frustration build up within her.

"Where am I?" She cried out.

The analytical gaze only seemed to deepen even more, mocking her, but the woman was not to be undeterred. She began to feel the pressure of her clenched fists.

"What am I doing here?!" Celestine nearly screamed, _"What do you want?!"_

Either oblivious or unresponsive, the man watched her like a hawk, his eyes unwavering to her desperate pleas. Total silence filled the area, and even the nearby sounds of battle momentarily fell mute. A few seconds later, Celestine felt a feeling of excitement when her ears picked the first words to have come out of his mouth.

" _What will you do next?_ " It was soft but stern at the same time.

The growing excitement was replaced with confusion, and the woman became mystified.

What did he mean by that?

She was about to question his words when a large shadow loomed over her head. Celestine turned to see one of the massive creatures standing right behind her, bringing its hammer overhead for a broad swing. Sheer terror gripping at her heart, the stunned woman didn't bother to move out of the way nor did she attempt to let out a scream.

She knew she was doomed either way.

With wide eyes, the last thing Celestine ever saw was the creature letting out a vicious roar, moving the very air out of the way with a swing of its enormous weapon. A mere moment later, the hammer connected to her face, and a blinding white light consumed her vision.

Then everything became silent.

* * *

Celestine Lucross woke up with a scream.

As sweat dripped down her face, she took in deep gasps of air and brought a hand up to her chest, another gripping the blanket that was loosely enwrapped around her. She looked throughout, immediately noticing that she was in a bed, contained within the confines of her personal chamber.

What that all just a dream?

She waited a moment to see if her surroundings were nothing but another illusion. Celestine felt the soft fabric of the bed with her hand, looking around the room with a stern gaze of suspicion. Then a minute later, she let out a sigh of relief and brought her head back down onto the pillow.

It would seem so, she realized.

But what was that? Celestine knew she had the power to see visions of the future, but the one she had just witnessed was nothing she had ever seen before. The vision was powerful, much more than the previous ones — and it honestly scared her to the core.

Who was that man? Those armored men? Those massive creatures? What did they mean for the future of Eostia? She let out a deep sigh and brought her hands up to her face.

It wouldn't do her much good to lament on such things.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Celestine stood up and wrapped herself with the shawl she had left on the bedside drawer. Feeling the cold surface of the floor with her bare feet, Celestine slowly made it over to the room's vanity mirror. She eyed her reflection gingerly.

Staring right back at her was the image of stunning beauty. Long blonde hair, pale skin, with vibrant green eyes that were only contrasted by the dark lines of weariness under her eyelids.

An ample chest supplemented her curvaceous figure, with a modest nightgown that seemed to accentuate her body to stunning degree. However, what really set her apart from others were a set of pointed ears hidden behind her luscious locks, indicating her status as a beautiful High Elf.

The reincarnated Goddess closed her eyes, tightening her grip on the wooden table.

Her thoughts wondered briefly to the visions she just had, with a small piece of dread she had felt in her unconscious state coming back hauntingly. Whatever the dream entailed, it would not just change the future for everyone in the alliance, but for the entirety of Eostia, she knew that for sure.

Although, the question of _how_ exactly it would was something that even the High Elf did not have the answer for. Celestine could only hope it wouldn't doom them all, for what it was all worth.

She sighed, rubbing her eyelids tiredly. Maybe some fresh air would help.

Biting her lip, the goddess turned to walk towards the room's main balcony. She stepped outside, shivering a bit once she felt the chilliness of the air through her thin nightgown.

It was barely past sunrise, she realized, with the light of the sun casting a beautiful blanket over one of the seven kingdoms of Eostia. The city of Ken, a place and its people she had sworn to protect.

A terrible war had befallen on the country, and the vast majority of the people have begun to suffer from its effects. In a way, she could even see it from her position on the balcony. Centuries of conflict with Olga Discordia, the queen of the Dark Elves, and the inhabitants of Garan were starting to take its toll.

Even as the leader of the Seven Shield Alliance, Celestine began to feel weary of the bloodshed, which grew in amounts she could not even fathom. For one thing she knew in her heart, something must be done to stop it all.

The goddess moved her gaze towards the sky, and observed the stars that haven't been washed away by the sunrise. The tiny specks of constellations created a beautiful picture that awed the High Elf, one that she enjoyed from time to time.

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to relax from the casual star-gazing. Thoughts of visions and war were swept under the metaphorical rug, and nothing but easing silence filled the chilly air. The quiet stretched on for a few minutes.

Celestine managed to let out a calm smile before a voice suddenly interrupted her.

"Lady Celestine?"

The High Elf turned to see the intruder, Claudia Levantine, standing by the doorway. Even in the early chill of the morning, the woman was already clad in the elegant armor of the Dawn Templars. Her hand was hovering over the hilt of her personal sword, a look of concern and caution crossing her fair face.

"Are you alright?" She asked worryingly, "My knights informed me of a scream that came from your room."

Celestine shook her head, giving her closest friend a warm smile, "It was nothing, Claudia. Merely a nightmare."

"More visions?" Claudia tilted her head.

The growing concern was evident in her voice. After all, the Dawn Templar was as much a close friend to Celestine as she was the alliance's second-in-command. To see the elven goddess in such trouble only brought more worry and sadness to Claudia's heart.

"I'm afraid so." The High Elf sighed tiredly, "This one was more vivid, more powerful than my previous ones."

The female knight frowned in thought, "Do you think it is important? To be that intense?"

"Possibly," Celestine trailed off for a moment, but then gave a dismissive smile, "but enough of that."

The reincarnated goddess gestured to a spot next to her, "Come, Claudia. Join me for a moment."

With a raised eyebrow of confusion, Claudia acquiesced to Celestine's request and took her place beside the quiet High Elf. Celestine looked to the stars once again with Claudia eventually following her superior's example. Neither of them spoke a word to each other, the latter daring not to out of respect for the goddess. The silence was almost palpable to touch.

"Do you think there could be people out there?" Celestine spoke out suddenly.

Claudia was caught off-guard by the sudden question, "I beg your pardon, my Lady?"

"Do you think there are other people out there?" The High Elf repeated, "Out there in the stars? We've been at war for so long that I've never really considered the possibilities of other worlds, with different kinds of people and culture. It's a fascinating thought, to be honest."

The female knight frowned in response, "With all due respect, Lady Celestine. Even if I somehow knew, it wouldn't be my place to say in the matter. I'm merely a soldier, after all."

With a small smile, she allowed her thoughts to drift elsewhere, "That line of work is more appropriate for my husband. He mostly likely knows more on the subject than I do."

Celestine put a hand on Claudia's shoulder with a giggle, "You're lucky to have him, Claudia. I'm happy for you."

"Thank you, my Lady. You bless me with your kind words." The female knight beamed, bowing down in respect.

The reincarnated goddess merely gave a gentle smile before looking out to the stars above. It went on that way for a couple of minutes, the relaxing silence giving the two women a sense of peace from their own inner conflicts. However, they both knew it would not last for long.

"You may leave me for now, Claudia." Celestine turned to the knight, "Return to your duties."

Claudia looked unconvinced, "Are you sure, Lady Celestine?"

"I'll be fine, my friend." The High Elf shooed the woman gently, "Now go."

Realizing that her persistence wouldn't change much, the leader of the Dawn Templars gave one last glance of concern before bowing her head, leaving the Goddess Incarnate to her own devices.

Once the High Elf made sure that she was void of any company, Celestine let out a heavy sigh. As much as she appreciated Claudia's concern, the knight's sheer stubborness can be quite troublesome at times.

Shaking her head, she let her gaze drift to the tiny celestial lights in the sky.

Slowly, she moved her arm towards one of the stars, opening her palm as if she was reaching out to touch it. The one she was facing seemed particularly special, blinking in a pace that would seem as if it was responding to her troubles.

The goddess allowed herself a small smile at the idea.

Maybe there were people beyond the stars, she thought. Maybe there were those who were in the same situation as she was, going through the same struggles, battling the same conflicts.

Maybe she wasn't alone after all.

The heat of the shining sunlight snapped her out of her thoughts, and she brought her eyes down from the sky full of stars to the busy city of Ken down below her. Although for now, the goddess had her own conflicts to deal with.

So in the meantime, she must remain strong for the good of not only for the people of Ken, but for everyone in Eostia depending on her. Celestine let out a weary sigh before steeling herself for the upcoming battle that was the day ahead of her.

After all, she had a war to win.


	2. The Sounds of Thunder

**AN: I want to thank everyone for the initial support of this story. In all honesty, I didn't think this would get much attention, considering Kuroinu is not a well-known series, and for obviously good reasons. Nonetheless, the reception is appreciated, and I'll continue the story in conjunction with the Rising Autumn. Hopefully, the winter break will give me enough time to write one chapter for both stories, or for this one at the least. Anyway, many thanks for stopping by, and I hope you have a good day!**

* * *

 **Exitus Acta Probat**

 **Chapter 1: The Sounds of Thunder**

 **Location: Unknown**

 **Date: [March 28, 2559] [06:30 UNSC Standard Military Time]**

* * *

The hustling activity within the bowels of the _Spirit of Fire_ was certainly a busy one to be sure. If the large amount of personnel was any indication, it would be especially true for one of the ship's upper hangar bays.

To and fro, numerous crew members and Marines traveled in the reminiscent manner of a beehive, all rejuvenated by their awakening from cryo-sleep. The colorful jackets of the former and the tan armor of the latter seemed to contrast each other oddly, but the remarkably smooth manner of which these men worked together showed the contrary to that belief. Years of training and experience held them from reacting to the strange situation they were in, and the calm visage that was visible on their countenance spoke volumes of their unwavering discipline.

Truly, it was quite the testament to the crew's resolve in times of unusual circumstances.

With steady hands, operators lowered cargo elevators that contained numerous vehicles and aircraft from the ceiling storage bays. When the lifts eventually leveled to ground level, the technicians quickly moved in and began removing the dust that have been settling over the last three decades of drifting. Captain Cutter had already informed most of the crew of their near thirty-year jump into the future, so they weren't too surprised to see most of the vehicles in slight states of disrepair, obviously due to the lack of constant maintenance.

The Marines, fully armored and armed, performed drills and exercises in whatever extra space that wasn't occupied. Many of them began quickly at the behest of their screaming sergeants. They pushed themselves to their limits, the idea of becoming soft almost unfathomable to them, and the few who weren't participating had the initiative to assist the cargo personnel with loading food, medical supplies, and ammunition onboard the Darter dropships.

It was a controlled chaos, to say the least.

Amidst the sheer mass of movement, three massive beings moved through the hangar, unheeding to the commotion around them. Their armored boots pounded the titanium floor with loud thumps of metal on metal, alerting their presence to those who were close enough to listen. Marines, cargo personnel, lift operators, and technicians alike briefly halted their tasks, opting to watch the armored individuals move past them with wide eyes.

The members of Spartan Red Team chose to ignore the stares, however, and continued to saunter towards their intended destination.

Leading the front was Jerome-092, characterized by his armor's unique red markings, with the two figures of Alice-130 and Douglas-042 following right behind him. All of them donned green MJOLNIR armor, their helmet's golden visors reflecting back everything that dared to make eye-contact with the hulking goliaths. However, the weaponry carried on their person was just as intimidating as their immensely massive stature. Befitting to their roles, each of the Spartans were respectively assigned different weapons that they were more or less familiar with.

Jerome carried a MA5B assault rifle, along with extra magazines of armor-piercing ammunition, and a powerful M6 Spartan Laser that was securely attached to the magnetic strips on his back. Likewise, Alice hauled the imposing shape of a two-handle, triple-barreled HMG, with a pair of M6C magnums attached to each of her armored thighs. Douglas, compared to his two comrades, was more light with his armament, although the pair of M7 SMGs on his hips and the M90 shotgun he held across his chest were nothing to scoff at either.

Adding to the extra belts of M9 frag grenades and blowbacks filled with enough C12 charges to blow up apart _meters_ of titanium plating, to say that the Spartans were armed to the teeth would have been an extremely gross understatement.

"I don't think this is what the Captain had in mind when he said 'travel light'." Douglas spoke through the private TEAMCOM channel.

Alice snorted lightly, "We're Spartans, Douglas. 'Light' is a relative term to us."

"As in enough weapons and explosives to fight a small war on our own?" Douglas retorted with a chuckle, "Do you think this is a bit too much for a simple recon mission?"

Jerome smiled slightly, enjoying the exchange between his fellow teammates. It was quite a refreshing sight to see, especially since most of their time was nearly spent in cryo-sleep. Trained to deal with different situations, the news about their thirty-year journey didn't affect him or his teammates as much compared to the rest of the crew.

The lack of insight regarding the mysterious situation they were in did worry the Spartan a bit, however.

"We're treading into unknown territory. More weapons will be the least of our concerns when we encounter something that could be a potential threat to us." He stated.

Douglas tilted his head ever so slightly, "Something that could be as dangerous as the Covenant?"

"Possibly." Jerome shrugged his shoulders.

"Those parasitic aliens weren't exactly pushovers when we first encountered them." Alice decided to add in, "Heavier gear wouldn't hurt if we manage to run into a similar situation."

Douglas' shoulders seem to deflate a bit, "Alright, I see your point." He murmured.

Jerome looked at both of them, "Hopefully, it won't come to that. We're only on recon, so no fighting unless we really have to. Understood?"

Silently, Alice and Douglas nodded in agreement, and Jerome turned around to see that they were closing in on their destination.

"Heads up, Spartans. We're almost at our ride."

Immediately cutting their conversation short, the three Spartans continued to journey forward as they passed by the watchful eyes of more Marines and crew members. Not too long after, Red Team eventually arrived at a landing pad currently occupied by a pair of D77-TC Pelicans. Attached to the dropships' aft overhangs were two variants of Warthog LRVs, each secured by magnetic attachment clamps.

However, the Spartans' attention wasn't directed at the vehicles themselves, but to the group of ODSTs who were standing by the open troop compartments of the Pelicans. The special operations troopers were closely inspecting their gear, with an array of weapons that showed each of their respective roles in the small squad. Silenced M7s, M6 magnums, and even the heavier variety of a sniper rifle and rocket launcher, it was painfully obvious that the ODSTs were not there to fool around.

Without hesitation, Jerome stepped forward to approach the small squad. His helmet faced the trooper who was spinning the barrels of his customized M41 SPNKR. From the unique unit patch and orange paint on the ODST's BDU, he immediately began to recognize the man in front of him.

"Major Vaughan."

The aforementioned ODST stiffened slightly and turned to face the awaiting Red Team. Without his helmet, the Spartans were able to see the man's expression of slight surprise and shock at their sudden appearance, his occupied hand twitching ever so lightly. But as fast as it had appeared, his astonishment disappeared from view, and his face took on a more neutral expression.

"Red Team." Vaughan broke out a small smile, "Glad you can make it with us."

Jerome nodded, "Likewise, Major. Are you and your squad ready?"

In response, Vaughan cocked his head to the other members of his team, "Give us a moment, Spartan, and Sunray 1-1 will be ready and waiting."

"Good." Without a moment's pause, Jerome took a quick moment to observe the ODSTs.

Prior to his arrival, the Spartan had taken the time to inspect Sunray 1-1's profile. To put it bluntly, he was quite impressed. This particular group of ODSTs were an unorthodox and motley bunch, no doubt about that, but they were also extremely efficient in what they can do. Even with their limited size, they were able to complete countless amounts of dangerous missions back at Harvest and so forth.

All without even losing a single member in the process. Impressive feats aside, that earned quite a bit of Jerome's respect.

He looked over his shoulder to his two teammates, "Let's go, Spartans."

Alice and Douglas nodded in an affirmative. With a light gesture from Jerome, the Spartans began to move past the ODSTs.

Dodging the hanging frame of the Warthog, they quietly stepped inside their designated Pelican's troop compartment. Entering the 'blood tray', Red Team took note of two occupants: an attractive woman in pilot gear and a brown-jacketed crew member. Judging from picked up terms like 'engine pods' and 'ANVIL missiles', they seemed to be conversing about the Pelican's propulsion and weapon systems respectively.

When loud footsteps alerted them to the presence of the three armored beings, the crew member immediately excused himself and maneuvered around the heavily armed Spartans. Once the man left the troop bay, the pilot approached Red Team tentatively. She raised a hand up to her mouth as if attempting to hold back a cough.

Whether it was from nervousness or otherwise, the Spartans didn't really know.

"Red Team?" The woman raised an eyebrow.

When Jerome responded with a curt nod, the female pilot let out a small grin, "Warrant Officer Charlotte Anderson, main operator of Bravo 029. I'll be your pilot for today."

"You're the one who's taking us down to the surface?" Douglas inquired gruffly.

"That's right." Almost gently, Anderson patted the surface of the titanium wall beside her, "This baby's seen a lot of action, so don't worry about any bumpy rides, Spartans. The trip down to the planet will be a smooth piece of cake."

Jerome tilted his head slightly, "This is a recon mission. There's no action as far as I'm aware."

"So I've heard." The pilot replied with an amused smirk, "I'm still running some diagnostic tests on the Pelican's systems. It'll take a few minutes for them to finish up, but in the meantime, get yourselves comfortable."

Jerome nodded, and Anderson gave a two-fingered salute before entering into the cockpit, leaving Red Team to their own devices. With nothing else to do, the Spartans gently dropped their gear down onto the floor, and began to quietly inspect their weapons for any defections. The silence between the members of Red Team was almost palpable enough to be cut by a butter knife.

Sitting down on the closest passenger seat, Jerome set his assault rifle down and looked to his two teammates. He quickly noticed that Alice was unusually tense, judging by the way she ever so slightly gripped the handle of her HMG. Jerome narrowed his eyes with suspicion.

She never held her weapons too tightly, in combat or otherwise.

"Alice, Douglas." He spoke up, catching the rest of Red Team's attention.

He flicked his finger at them, and the three Spartans immediately switched to their TEAMCOM channel. Now that he was certain there weren't any eavesdroppers, Jerome wasted no time tackling the metaphorical elephant in the room.

"Alice, do you have something to say?" The Spartan questioned.

Alice stayed silent for a second, the electronic whirl of her HMG's spinning barrels filling the compartment, "What do you think about all of this?"

"What do you mean?" Jerome started the process of dissembling his MA5B.

"The situation we're in." Alice gave a small huff as she set down her HMG, "I was just fine with taking down Covenant, but—"

The Spartan paused, as if she was trying to find the right words, "This is something I didn't have in mind."

"I agree with Alice." Douglas joined in while inserting more shells into the tubular magazine of his shotgun, "We've slept for nearly three decades, cut off from the rest of the UNSC, and we don't even know if we won the war or not."

Once the Spartan finished loading his weapon, he secured it on his back with a magnetic 'click', and looked to Jerome, who was watching him with a curious gaze.

"I know we're trained for this sort of thing, but does our circumstance at least...concern you?" Douglas asked, cocking his head inquisitively.

Jerome remained silent, retrieving a spare rag to clean the dissembled parts of his assault rifle. He took a moment to ponder about what his teammates suggested. Not surprisingly, he had to agree with their reasoning.

They were stuck in a rather peculiar position, and the thirty year gap meant that a lot could have happened during the time the _Spirit of Fire_ was still drifting in space. There were so many unknown variables, so much that they don't know, and Jerome absolutely despised the idea of not knowing. But even then, he knew that there was no point lamenting over something so trivial. As the leader of Spartan Red Team, he could easily shuffle emotions into the deep corners of his mind, quickly devise strategies and plans within the heat of combat. Adapting to an unfamiliar scenario was a trait that became almost natural to him.

If anything, their current predicament shouldn't be any different.

"I can't really say to be honest, Douglas."

After cleaning the parts until they were practically spotless, Jerome set aside the dirtied rag and started the process of reassembling his MA5B.

"For one thing I know for sure, the best course of action for all of us is to move on forward and adapt."

The Spartan snapped the parts back into place with practiced, almost mechanical grace, "Our main priority is the objective at hand, regardless of the situation. We're Spartans. We've been through worse before."

"Yeah? And what if it becomes too much for us to handle?" Douglas grunted.

After slapping a fresh magazine into his newly cleaned assault rifle, Jerome stayed silent and looked to his teammates, "That's something I can't answer."

"You can't?" Alice challenged while giving her leader a level gaze, "Or you won't?

Jerome was about to shoot back a response when the sound of footsteps caused the Spartans to immediately pause their discussion. Nearly as one, Red Team directed their attention to Anderson. The pilot was leaning by the cockpit's doorway with both arms crossed in front of her chest. There was a curious, somewhat confused glint in her hazel eyes, although it was contrasted by the triumph smile that followed shortly after.

"Pelican's all good." Her soft voice held a proud tone, "Better get yourselves strapped in, Spartans. We're about to take off soon."

Once Jerome gave a curt nod of acknowledgement, Anderson went back into the cockpit and sealed the door shut behind her. He glanced over to his two teammates, who were waiting for him in still silence. The Spartan could easily tell that they weren't exactly done with the topic yet, judging from their subtle body language.

He held back a loud sigh.

"We'll talk about this later. Right now, we have a job to do." His tone was calm and even, but it clearly left no room for argument.

For a moment, Alice and Douglas did not let out a single word, their helmet's visors boring into his own. It almost seemed to go on forever, a silent battle that was practically impossible to witness. Eventually, Jerome could see their stances relax a bit, and they slightly nodded to him in a faint but noticeable sign of agreement. The leader of Red Team couldn't help but lightly sag his shoulders in relief, and he showed his appreciation through a gesture that was all too familiar to the entire team.

Raising a hand up to the front of his helmet, he moved his index and middle finger into a 'V' shape, swiping them across his faceplate: A Spartan smile.

Alice and Douglas gave a light nod in response, repeating the gesture with graceful sync. Another brief silence fell upon Red Team, and a calm atmosphere began to replace the tenseness permeating the air moments prior. For the three Spartans, the quiet camaraderie would have gone for a rather long time, had it not been for the voice of Anderson suddenly entering throughout the entire troop bay.

" _This is Bravo 029. All of those in and out of the Pelican, please enter in your seats and fasten all seat beats. We will begin our departure shortly._ "

It was almost time to go. Red Team gave each other quick glances before they grabbed whatever equipment and weaponry was left on the floor. Without a single word, Alice and Douglas took their respective spots next to Jerome, right by the entrance of the troop compartment. The sounds of footsteps directed the attention of the three Spartans to Sunray 1-1's arrival, the troopers stepping onto the rear ramp and entering into the blood tray.

The five ODSTs took their own seats wordlessly, facing abreast to the members of Red Team.

As the troopers settled in, the Pelican's rear door closed off the troop bay with a mechanical 'click'. A slight rumble alerted the occupants to the service elevator that gradually elevated the drop ship into the upper deck of the hangar bay. With the warm up sequence starting up, each of the Pelican's four nacelles tilted in different directions while the six ventral thrusters whined to life. A few seconds past before the dropship's powerful engines flared with bursts of light, the bird slowly lifting itself off the ground.

Not long after, the lift leveled with the upper hangar bay's deck.

Inside the cockpit, Anderson prepared her Pelican for the launch sequence. Two rows of guiding lights illuminated the long corridors and flight deck, stretching all the way up to the void of space beyond. It was a fairly beautiful sight, and the thought of flying once more became quite a cathartic feeling for the lone pilot.

Anderson shook her helmeted head, inhaling deeply to gather herself for a moment, "Starting launch sequence in three—"

The Pelican's landing gears retracted back into the main body, "—Two—"

Each of the thrusters in the wing and rear nacelles whined even louder, "—One."

Anderson punched it. Bravo 029's engines roared to life almost immediately and the Pelican itself accelerated out of the hangar bay, soaring out into space for the first time in nearly thirty years. Anderson would have whooped at the rush of adrenaline she felt, but instead settled for a small grin as she gazed at the mystery planet below her. She tilted the controls with precise dexterity, and the pilot's long time friend had no trouble responding to her command when the Pelican quickly angled itself to the direction of their destination.

With the rear thrusters firing at full burn, Bravo 029 began to gain more momentum as the dropship rocketed towards the surface of the planet.

* * *

Within the troop compartment, the atmosphere between the occupants was more or less impassive.

The ODSTs spoke amongst themselves, seemingly excited at the prospect of the new mission, while the members of Red Team chose to have their own way of discussion. At least, if the clicks of their weaponry were evident enough.

"How's your gear, Alice?" Jerome questioned, checking his C12-filled blowback with cautious care.

The sound of a chambered M6C magnum answered him back, "Everything's all good."

"Same here." Douglas finished inspecting the magazines of his M7 SMGs, "Though, my point still stands. I think the weapons we brought's a bit overkill."

Alice gave a dry chuckle, "Overkill? With the crap we've been through, you're going to wish you brought your rocket launcher with us."

"Oh yeah? Want to bet on that?" Came an amused snort from Douglas.

"Sorry." Alice gave a mocking shrug, "I got nothing to bet with."

"What about your HMG?" Douglas cocked his head in an almost hopeful manner.

In response, Alice let out a light huff of air through her nose, "I didn't take you for a joker, Douglas."

"It takes one to know one, Alice."

"I'm almost dying from laughter."

Jerome rolled his eyes, nearly amused by his teammate's banter when he heard a sudden crack of static through his helmet's speakers.

" _Red Team Leader, this is_ Spirit of Fire _actual. What is your status?_ " The voice of Captain Cutter blared through their COM system.

All of the Spartans stiffened and immediately rose from their seats. Even if Cutter himself wasn't present, years of training and ingrained protocol dictated that they stand at attention. From the corner of his vision, Jerome could see that the ODSTs proceeded to do the same, obviously aware of the officer's presence.

"We're currently on our way to the surface, sir. Sorry for the delay." Red Team's leader responded attentively.

" _No need for apologies, Spartan. On the contrary, I have some interesting things you might want to see._ "

A small screen popped up on each of the Spartans' HUDs, displaying multiple dots on what appeared to be continents of different shapes and sizes.

" _I took the liberty of deploying a few clarion spy drones to scan the planet before you left. Afterwards, this is what we got back from one of their sensors._ "

The screens began to zoom onto the biggest continent, and the blinking dots were replaced by a transmitting packet of data, a video feed from a drone's camera. At first, nothing of interesting note appeared on the feed, mostly in the form of passing trees, mountains, and frequent herds of wild animals. It was until the drone flew above the said mountains that something on the video quickly caught the attention of everyone in the troop bay.

"Settlements?" Jerome asked with some surprise.

" _Small and primitive, yes._ " Cutter responded, " _No evidence of modern architecture or electricity,_ _but they all indicate to at least some form of civilization._ "

The voice of Major Vaughan piped up suddenly, "So does this mean that we're dealing with a First Contact scenario, then?"

" _Quite possibly, Major. Whether or not they're a direct threat to our forces_ _is unknown at the moment, so that's why there's going to be an additional objective to your recon._ "

"Additional objective?" Douglas turned to his teammates in slight confusion.

" _An extension of friendship, so to speak._ _Head for the nearest settlement the moment you land on the surface, and make contact with the locals under the guise of traveling foreigners. No fighting or violence, if possible._ "

Jerome tilted his head, "With all due respect, sir. Is there a reason for the change in our mission? I was under the assumption we're to investigate the signal only, and avoiding contact with anything else."

" _That was the initial idea. However, we are in a precarious situation as it is._ " Cutter explained firmly, " _The_ Spirit of Fire _is stranded in unfamiliar territory, cut off from the rest of the UNSC._ _If anything, the best course of action for all of us is to establish friendly relations with whoever's down on the planet. Any sort of open conflict would just drain the ship's resources."_

 _"_ And what if the natives do become hostile, sir? _"_ Vaughan asked the question in everyone's mind.

There was a brief moment of pause from the Captain, " _Retreat, and do not engage unless it is absolutely necessary. Like I explained before, we're here to make allies, not enemies. Hopefully bring some sort of insight to our circumstance and make our search for the mystery signal easier. If friendly contact is not possible, then we'll have to adapt to the situation in some other way._ "

Jerome nodded respectfully, "Understood, sir. We'll get it done."

" _I know you will. Report back to me when something begins to develop. Cutter out._ "

The transmission ended with a click of static, leaving the occupants to silently contemplate on the short briefing.

In all honesty, both the Spartans and the ODSTs were more than a little surprised at the recent turn of events. Moments ago, what was supposed to be an uneventful reconnaissance became a diplomatic mission within the span of a minute, a development that left some members of the recon team with no hidden reservations. Any sort of diplomacy more than likely would be at the barrels of their weapons than at the negotiating table.

Drifting thoughts of Harvest and Arcadia were evident enough.

However, they knew it would be practically pointless to question the Captain's plan. Cutter's reasoning made sense in many ways, and his actions in the past proved that any sense of doubt would be a futile gesture, considering the circumstance they were in. More than anything, putting faith in the Captain's decision was the wiser option if there was at least something to gain in the end.

Jerome just hoped it will be worth the effort in the long run, once said and done. He let out a silent sigh. Shaking his head slightly, the Spartan subconsciously established a COM channel to the Pelican's cockpit.

"Bravo 029, what's the ETA to the surface?" Jerome questioned.

A second later, the voice of Anderson answered back to him, " _M_ _omentarily, Spartan. One minute until landing._ "

"Copy. Standing by." The Spartan turned to each member of the recon team, "Prepare yourselves. We're about to arrive soon."

His two teammates merely nodded, holding their respective weapons out in front of them at the ready. Likewise, Sunray 1-1 prepared themselves for the eventual landing, the cocks and clicks of their own weaponry filling the troop compartment. The ODSTs eventually held their weapons in lowered but tense positions, joining Red Team as they all braced themselves with bated breaths. Nothing but total silence filled the blood tray.

" _Stand by for drop!_ "

Almost immediately, the occupants felt a slight jerk of the Pelican slowing to a complete stop, and the rear door slowly split apart to reveal bright light that briefly illuminated the interior of the compartment.

"Move it!" Jerome yelled out.

The occupants wasted no time to disembark from the troop bay, their boots stepping on grassy soil for the first time in nearly three decades.

Moving around the Warthog still connected to the Pelican's aft section, Red Team began to form a defensive perimeter around the dropship, with the ODSTs proceeding to do the same. All of them didn't take the risk of lowering their guard, and they raised their weapons around the lush surroundings to scan for any potential threats. The Spartans especially watched the area with scrutinizing glares, often glancing at their motion trackers to detect any signs of movement within twenty-five meters out in front of them.

After a while, none of them found anything that would be considered hostile.

Jerome raised a fist into an all-clear gesture, allowing the rest of Red Team and Sunray 1-1 to lower their weapons. The sounds of thrusters directed their attention to the second Pelican that was landing near them, its tilted engines kicking up the grass and leaves of nearby trees. Underneath its aft section was a M831 Troop Transport Warthog, which the Pelican promptly dropped to the ground before taking off to the sky. In the same manner, Bravo 029 disabled the magnetic points that held its own cargo, allowing the vehicle to land on the grass without so much as a single squeak of protest.

"Spirit of Fire _actual, I've dropped off my load. Returning home now._ " Anderson voiced over the COM channel.

Red Team watched the Pelican close off the rear door, angling its thrusters to climb higher into the air. Then with a brief burst of its engines, Bravo 029 shot off into the sky with a violent shockwave that disturbed the surrounding area. Their transport had fortunately picked a spot where it was bare of any witnessing locals, if only soured by the fact that the loud disturbance caused a pack of what appeared to be squirrels and deer to ran past them, all in evident states of panic. The recon team raised their weapons tensely. They watched the animals scatter frantically, hauling ass to the tree-lines and eventually vanishing out of sight.

Major Vaughan sighed, lowering his SMG, "Alright, Helljumpers. Let's get this show on the road."

He gestured to the rest of his team and the ODSTs began to pile up onto the passenger seats of the Troop Hog. Red Team, with quick nods towards one another, climbed aboard their designated Warthog. Taking their respective positions, Jerome sat in the driver's seat while Alice manned the rear-mounted machine gun. However, Douglas took a brief moment to view their lush surroundings. A rare feeling of peace washed over him.

He inhaled faintly before letting out a deep breath, "It feels good to have our feet back on real ground again, doesn't it, Alice?"

"If past experiences prove much, it'll be hard for me to see anything as 'real' ever again." Alice responded evenly, spinning the barrels of the M46 Vulcan.

Jerome looked over his shoulder, "Alice is right. There's so much we don't know at the moment. Keep your eyes out for trouble."

"Copy, boss." Once he was done, Douglas climbed into the passenger seat, "Where to now?"

Alice glared at her HUD, "According to the drone, the nearest settlement is about a few klicks east from our position. An hour's drive at a reasonable speed."

"Perfect." Jerome took notice of what appeared to be a narrow road a few feet away from them, cleared of grass and obviously man-made, "We'll use that road as our guide."

Once he made sure his teammates were strapped in, the Spartan ignited the LRV's systems. The hydrogen engine of the vehicle roared to life, and he stepped on the forward petal to slowly guide the Warthog towards the nearby road. Glancing over his shoulder to see Sunray 1-1's Troop Hog following right behind him, Jerome maneuvered the LRV onto the road, causing the large tires to kick up clouds of dirt and rock in the process. The distant rumble on his rear told him the other Warthog proceeded to do the same.

With a slight sigh of anticipation, Jerome punched the throttle to the maximum.

Almost immediately, the vehicle began to accelerate onward. The Warthog drove ahead without a care in the world, and its internal systems worked overtime to keep up the increase in speed. Not wanting to be left behind, the Troop Hog hastened its pace to catch up with the leading LRV. The loud roar of the vehicles' engines started to overlap with each other, nearly creating a strange sort of harmony that echoed throughout the surrounding area.

The Warthogs sped ahead, determined to reach their destination.

* * *

The one hour ride towards the settlement quickly proved to be quite an uneventful one.

An apparent fact that put the members of Red Team on slight edge. There hadn't been a single conflict, not even a single encounter with a living being, since their prior arrival, but the three Spartans continued to throw wary glances anyway. Even in a non-combat scenario, their training dictated that they keep careful at all times, in the event where the situation could go for the worst at any given time.

Obviously, Red Team wasn't going to let that happen.

Jerome kept his hands on the wheel steadily, unwilling to let the Warthog stray off the road at the risk of delaying the recon mission. Alice rotated her turret around, aiming the machine gun at the passing environment while Douglas served as the lookout to watch out for any signs of trouble. None of them had spoken a word since their departure, and the Spartans continued to do so at the excuse of a non-verbal agreement between themselves.

The silence would have gone for a lot longer, if anything else, had not been for the sudden appearance of distant fumes, catching Douglas's attention.

"Boss, up ahead." He called out and pointed, "Smoke."

Jerome looked to where Douglas gestured, "I see it."

It was time for a quick detour. The Spartan swerved the Warthog, moving the LRV off the road with Sunray 1-1's Hog immediately following their lead. The all-terrain nature of their vehicle eliminated the difficulty of uneven ground, allowing the Spartans to enjoy the comfort of a bumpy-free ride as they began to approach the destination of Jerome's improvised shortcut.

With the driver pressing on the brakes, the Warthog came to a complete stop by the edge of a cliff, overlooking a massive valley. The second Warthog arrived moments later, slowing down to a fixed position right next to Red Team. Vaughan popped his head from the driver's seat, and let his confusion known through the slight tilt of his helmet.

"Red Team, what's up with the delay?" He questioned out loud.

Douglas shrugged, pointing to the cause of their detour, "Take a look."

The ODST narrowed his eyes to where the Spartan directed, and took a moment to study the column of fumes with his gaze trailing down to the point of origin. However, it didn't take very long to figure out where the strange disturbance was coming from. Vaughan's body stiffened as realization began to kick in.

"Is that?"

Jerome nodded, his calm tone betraying a subtle sense of concern, "The settlement."

Down below, the mentioned settlement looked as if all hell was breaking loose. Multiple fires were burning down the foundations of what appeared to be wooden buildings, and the recon team could faintly hear the screams of the presumed residents, mixed with unsettling roars and laughter from some unknown entities. The latter especially unnerved the ODSTs, all of them giving each other perturbed glances. It was quite clear that the troopers didn't exactly like what they were hearing.

"I'll take a closer look." Douglas turned to Jerome, who gave a nod of approval.

The Spartan climbed out of the passenger seat, taking tentative steps forward until he was at a reasonable distance by the edge of the overhang. Activating his helmet's binocular function, Douglas reconnoitered as his HUD slowly zoomed onto the settlement. Surely enough, the camera began to discern the finer details of the commotion, and the Spartan could even make out the outline of multiple figures, some larger than most. Eventually the zoom stopped on its highest setting, and his HUD filtered a properly magnified image which Douglas wasted no time taking a look at.

After a moment, the Spartan felt his breathing hitch once he took in the image completely, "Humans?"

The rest of Red Team and the ODSTs glanced at Douglas with bewildered stares.

"What was that?" Jerome asked.

"Humans." Douglas repeated to his team's leader, shaking his head in slight disbelief, "There are _humans_ down there."

All of the ODSTs were caught off-guard by the blank statement, and it was quite evident through the surprised and shocked jerks of their helmets. Red Team didn't physically show it, but each of them felt a smilier level of concern at the new information. There was a strange, quite obvious coincidence that the first group of people they would find on this unknown world were humans of all things, much less after waking up from three decades of cryo-sleep. It was a glaring fact that was almost hard to believe.

Douglas shared the image through his neural interface. Jerome and Alice studied it closely, noting the now identified human residents, all wearing primitive clothing. They also took careful notice of the clearly non-human creatures assaulting the unarmed people and the settlement's defenders, donning equally primitive armor around their large bellies. The things' movements seemed slow, almost mocking, and somewhat ungainly for their massive size.

"Those people seem to be in trouble." Alice stated matter-of-factly.

Jerome nodded in a silent agreement, clearing his thoughts to establish another comm channel, "Red Team Leader to _Spirit of Fire_ actual."

" _Cutter here. Status?_ " The stern voice of Captain Cutter came through the link.

"Sir, there's been a recent—" The Spartan paused for the correct word, "—development."

Cutter was curious, " _Development? What sort of development?_ "

"We're overlooking the settlement right now, but it appears to under attack by an unknown force." Jerome reported back, "Not only that, the residents are _human_ , sir. We're not just dealing with First Contact."

" _Say again, Jerome. Did you say humans?_ " The Captain's tone came back almost incredulous after a few seconds of silence.

The Spartan nodded his head slightly, "Yes, sir. How do you want us to proceed?"

For a moment, Cutter didn't say a word over the channel, and the Spartan could imagine the Captain moving a hand up to his stubbled chin in thought. Jerome just waited, his patience nearly indefinite. Eventually, the Spartan heard a faint but clearly tired sigh from the older officer.

" _This changes things._ _Exactly what sort of unknown force are we dealing with here?_ "

Jerome responded almost immediately, "All non-human entities. Large, fat, green-skinned, each equipped with crude weapons and armor."

" _Then_ _disregard my previous orders. When you arrive at the settlement, carry out many and all efforts to assist in their defenses. Try to limit the use of explosives or grenades._ "

"Sir?" Jerome blinked from under his helmet, "I thought we're supposed to avoid any conflict."

" _Not anymore. Not after what you've just told me._ "

Cutter's stern voice turned even more rigid, " _There's a human presence in that settlement, one that certainly needs our help. Thirty years of sleep be damned, we have a clear duty to help our fellow man, unknown or otherwise. We swore long ago to uphold the ideals of humanity, morals_ _that'll be left in vain if we turn a blind eye to those people. Something we cannot afford to do."_

The Spartan didn't hesitate to agree with the Captain. UNSC or not, these people were human, that much was clear as day. Leaving them to their fate would only serve to tug on Jerome's conscious, and he knew his two teammates and Sunray 1-1 would unanimously feel the same way.

One thing for sure, those people need help...and badly.

"I understand, Captain. We'll help them out." Jerome stated with a sense of resolve.

" _Good, make sure you eliminate all hostile elements left in the area. Cleanup teams will arrive later when you're finished. Cutter out._ "

With that said, the transmission ended, leaving the Spartan to his own devices. Jerome frowned faintly, turning to the rest of Red Team. There was a lot of work needed to be done, and he didn't have any intention to start it off by twiddling his thumbs.

"Douglas, Alice, saddle up. We're heading down to help those people."

Whether it was divine intervention or from the devastation below, the other two Spartans didn't make an effort to question the new mission. Their subtle body language told him already that they were willing to follow him, no matter what the objective entailed. Jerome couldn't help but feel a rare moment of pride, if only for the briefest second.

"Can't wait." Douglas entered into the passenger seat, removing his SMGs from the magnetic holsters, "And here, I thought we wouldn't get to see some action."

Alice grinned lightly, bracing herself against the machine gun's shoulder guards, "Agreed."

Jerome stepped on the rear petal to reverse the Warthog, rotating the wheel to bring the vehicle right back around. Glancing behind his shoulder to make sure the ODSTs were following him, the Spartan punched the throttle once more. The Warthog rumbled to life as the tires crunched the grass underneath, and the backtracking LRV accelerated toward the main road with the Troop Hog not far behind.

The roars of mechanical engines filled Red Team's ears, and a tense atmosphere of anticipation began to permeate the air. Whether the Spartans were really aware or not, it didn't really matter. Things were going to change, for better or worse, no one really knew. Red Team tensed, preparing themselves for the eventual conflict ahead of them.

After all, they had a mission to complete.

* * *

To say Maia was experiencing a bad day would have been a gross understatement.

The red-haired mercenary snarled ferociously, hacking and slicing away at the monsters that dared to lay their dirty fingers on the innocent civilians. It became a rhythm of some sort, the swings and strikes slowly turning into a dance to the very death. One of the monsters attempted to catch her from behind, but a clean swing to the gut put an end to its pitiful attempts. Another went for a more direct approach, but a cut through the thigh caused the beast to kneel in visible pain before the mercenary sliced through the neck, separating the head from the body completely.

Maia flicked the blood off her weapons, watching the decapitated Orc fall the ground with a triumph glare.

Her broadswords were enhanced from the gifted hands of Luu-Luu herself, and the steel blades quickly began to prove their worth in the heat of combat. And yet, despite the plethora of Orc bodies that lay on the ground all around her, she knew in the back of her mind that it would never be enough. For one Orc that was taken down, two seemed to take its place, and her own forces were starting to become depleted from the sheer amount of the beasts alone.

The battle was slowly starting to turn against their favor.

Maia frowned somberly, gazing to the burning buildings around her.

Quite frankly, it was a losing fight even before it had begun. The war party sent by the Dark Queen numbered by the hundreds, maybe even the thousands, and the large attrition began to take its toll on both her own forces and the town's militia. Unintelligent and clumsy, the only real motivation that drove the Orcs forward was the lustful desire to force themselves upon women, no matter their age or species. No one knew exactly why, but the suffering of others seemed to be the only thought process for the lumbering beasts.

That pissed Maia off more than anything else.

Narrowing her tangerine eyes, the mercenary let out a war cry. She sprinted toward the nearest group of Orcs with her swords in hand, intent on showing no mercy to the vulgar bastards. The Orcs barely had any time to react before the mercenary practically pounced on them, ripping them to bloody pieces. Once she was done, Maia bent down and offered her help to the women who had been mere moments from becoming the monsters' play things. Their clothes were ripped to shreds, with bruises on their skin from being handled too roughly, but otherwise they seemed completely unharmed from the entire ordeal.

Maia gave them a warm smile before pointing toward the opposite direction, "Quickly head to the Mayor's estate. You'll be safe there."

The women gave their sincere thanks to the mercenary before taking off, leaving Maia alone with a circle of Orc corpses. The red-head sighed wearily, stepping over the bodies and ran to hunt beasts to kill.

It didn't really take long for her to find some more.

A few moments later, she came across a large group of slightly more armored Orcs, who were cornering a group of civilians to the wall of a nearby building. Shouting jeers at the men while sending lustful leers at the women within the group, the circle of Orcs started to become smaller as the beasts descended upon the defenseless people with their weapons raised intently.

However, the Orcs didn't take into account for a certain red-haired mercenary.

Three of the beasts fell to the ground as their throats spilled warm blood like fountains. The rest of the Orcs directed their attention to Maia, who positioned herself in front of the frightened civilians. She tightened her grip on the golden handles of her broadswords, legs shifting into a defensive stance. At the sight, the remaining Orcs began to roar in guttural laughter, confusing the red-haired mercenary and the people behind her.

"What's so funny, assholes?" Maia sneered coldly.

The answer came in the form of _twenty_ more Orcs, who took their spots around the already existing circle. Adding to the fires that raged all across the town, the sight of the twenty-six Orcs was a more or less intimidating one. The fact that most of their lustful stares were directed at her didn't help either.

Maia felt her resolve falter for a moment before she shook her head vigorously.

She was the Queen of Mercenaries. A Princess Knight of the Seven Shield Alliance. She didn't get to where she was now from just twiddling thumbs. If she had gotten herself out of worse situations before, then she could survive this one for sure.

The choice was already clear to her.

With a face of pure determination, Maia stared down the surrounding Orcs silently, as if daring them to make a move. There was an air of tense silence, distant sounds of screams and fighting in the background. The Orcs snorted in amusement at her bravado, and they slowly began to advance closer to her. In response, Maia readied the broadswords for what seemed to be her final stand.

Then suddenly, she began to hear a strange sound.

"What the hell?"

It was far away, almost distant at first. Then as the seconds went by, it started to get closer. At that moment, Maia had very few words to describe the unusual noise. It sounded...inorganic, but somehow alive at the same time. It was akin to that of irate growling but more powerful and vicious, almost as if coming from something much more... _feral_.

The Orcs seemed to take notice of the sound as well, and a few of them disengaged from the circle to investigate the disturbance. Everyone in the circle, including Maia, waited with bated breath. It was until moments later that, to the mercenary's surprise, _something_ came barreling down the street.

In all her life, Maia saw many incredible, even impossible things, but _never_ had she seen anything so bizarre with her own eyes. It was massive, made of a seemingly metal material with a pair of sharp tusks at the front, and somehow was able to run on large black wheels without the need of a horse pulling on it.

The Mercenary Queen felt her eyes widening in awe. How such a thing even existed was beyond her, and her curious gaze drifted to what appeared to be people riding inside of the metal beast — two on each side and one manning a strange contraption at the rear. However, the thing was going too fast for her to distinguish any real features of the occupants. She bit her lip in anticipation, instead settling on watching the metal contraption race toward her position.

However, she certainly did not expect the moments that followed after.

The metal beast continued its path, the rumbling thrums becoming more like a roar each passing second. Then suddenly, the front and back set of the wheels began to rotate in different directions, angling the beast until it was actually moving _sideways_ , not even straying off its original path. Complementing the bizarre maneuver, the person in the back aimed the contraption at the Orcs with an odd, almost foreign whirl filling the air.

What happened next would stay with her for the rest of her life.

The rear contraption flared to life, sending down volleys of what appeared to be tiny projectiles, streaks of fire that were too rapid for her to even see. Left and right, Orcs were suddenly cut down as if they were chaff from the wheat. Their hole-filled bodies jerked a bit before the beasts fell to the ground in bloody heaps, their collective screams of shock and pain reduced to nothing in a mere instant.

Maia would've felt almost sorry for the poor bastards, had she not been busy covering both her ears.

The sounds that followed were _loud_ , almost unbearably so. Blocking out everything else, they rang through the air with alarming dissonance. It was absolutely terrifying, to say the least.

Letting out a startled grimace, Maia began to feel an emotion she hadn't felt since the beginning of her Black Dog years: Fear. However, she didn't fear the fact that the Orcs were slaughtered with such relative ease, nor when the cause of their early demise suddenly slowed to a stop right in front of her. No, Maia feared the sounds.

She feared the sounds of thunder.


	3. First Contact (Updated)

**AN:** **Cheers to a new update.** **I apologize for the tardiness. I've been dealing with a lot of stuff: Chief among them were the passing of my dad (Screw you liver cancer), school work, and other matters that are not much of interesting note. Anyway,** **I want to thank all of you for taking the time to stop by and read the story** **. It means a lot to me, and the positive reception probably means I'm doing something right at least. The lack of Kuroinu knowledge is hindering, to put it lightly, but that doesn't mean I can't improvise.**

 **Anyway, thank you for your time, and I hope you have a wonderful day.**

 **(Update: No new chapter. Made minor adjustments and added an updated ending to the chapter. I felt like it was rushed slightly, here's a bit more closure. Changed rating to M.)**

* * *

 **Exitus Acta Probat**

 **Chapter 2: First Contact**

 **Location: Unknown**

 **Date: [March 28, 2559] [08:15 UNSC Standard Military Time]**

* * *

The two Warthogs sped down the narrow road with roars of powerful engines, interrupting the peacefulness of the surrounding area. Minutes ago, the members of both Red Team and Sunray 1-1 used an integrated TEAMCOM channel to review their newly found mission, supplemented by the information that was learned mere moments prior.

Their impromptu plan was rather straightforward, to put it in other words.

Naturally, the Spartans would be the ones spearheading the attack by first eliminating any non-human hostiles in the area, utilizing the quick response nature of their Warthog. On the other hand, the ODSTs would take on a more supportive role, and split up from the Spartans in order to sweep the place for any straggling survivors.

No one blurted out an objection or even a single question to the objective. Everyone already knew their respective roles, and the audible sounds of inspected gear accompanied the calm but tense silence that chocked the air.

No innocent people were going to die today, not on their watch.

Jerome steadily kept the Warthog on a straight path, the distant smoke slowly revealing to be the fires that were burning down the wooden structures. Beside him, Douglas readied his SMGs while Alice pointed the rear machine gun at the nearing settlement. All three of the Spartans couldn't help but frown in concern.

Especially up close, they could clearly see that the situation wasn't going well for the waning defenders. The settlement's defensive wall — an encompassing wooden barrier that rose almost two stories in height — was already breached by the hostile's relentless assault. The gate doors were blown off their hinges, presumingly by the primitive siege weaponry left abandoned at the front, and the large opening most likely allowed the non-human entities easy access into the interior of the settlement.

Unknown to the green-skinned beasts, their 'easy' opportunity would soon become their eventual downfall.

"How nice of them to open the door for us." Douglas snorted lightly.

Alice nodded from her spot, "Hopefully, they'll be too preoccupied with their attack to see us coming. We'll have the element of surprise here."

"We have those people to worry about, too." Jerome turned to his two teammates briefly, "It won't do us good if we accidentally shot a civilian during a fight, so stay cautious."

Douglas and Alice responded curtly, "Affirmative."

Once he nodded back silently, Jerome directed his attention toward their approaching destination. With the brief amount of time they had on their hands, the leader of Red Team allowed his thoughts to drift to what his teammates had pitched in.

Not surprisingly, both Spartans were right in their assessment. The destroyed gate, for all its archaic and simple worth, was easily the size of a Scorpion tank, which meant that a smaller vehicle like their Warthog could easily bypass through the opening without trouble.

Likewise, the non-human hostiles appeared to have a collective intellect only rivaled by angry Brutes, if their gait and mismatched armor were any indication. Most likely, their attention would be solely focused on the settlement's occupants and its defenses.

None of the creatures were going to expect a third party. Especially if it came in the form of two Warthog LRVs, filled to the brim with fully-armed Spartans and ODSTs.

Quite the element of surprise they would have, indeed.

Jerome sighed faintly before moving his eyes to the settlement's massive wall, which crawled closer with each passing second. It was almost time to get this show on the road, to quote Major Vaughan's words.

"Prepare for hostile contact, team." Jerome called out.

He received a pair of green winks from the corner of his HUD, indicating that his two teammates had acknowledged his order.

In conjunction, the voice from one of the ODSTs, Warrant Officer Quinn, also answered him back, " _Copy, Spartan. Standing by for contact._ "

Once he glanced back to check up on Sunray 1-1s' Warthog, Jerome lightly tightened the grip on the steering wheel before adding slight pressure on the forward pedal. With a louder roar than before, the LRV began to sped up faster, gaining more speed from the sudden increase in acceleration. The similar rumble behind the Spartans indicated that the Troop Hog attempted to pick up the pace, unwilling to let itself fall behind.

It didn't take long until the two Warthog reached the settlement's perimeter.

From a certain perspective, the blazing fires were even more colossal in size, almost like towering giants compared to the smaller vehicles approaching the breached gate. Strangely enough, the non-human hostiles didn't seem to spare the effort of guarding the entrance from outside interference, but the recon team knew that won't be the case the moment they arrive into the settlement.

The devastation alone was evidence of the potential threat ahead of them, no question about it.

Each of the Warthogs' occupants readied themselves, stowing any sense of doubt or nervousness into the back of their mind. No one spoke a word, not even a single sound, only watching with bated breath as the gate grew much closer and even more ominous.

Whether the outcome was clear or not, there was one single thing that was known for sure. The clicks of different weaponry began to fill the air with silent conviction.

Their sense of duty demanded the spill of blood, executed by hook or by crook. God forgive those who stood in their way.

The Warthogs surged through the gate with a quick burst of acceleration, roaring their presence to the skies aloud. Once the two vehicles finally entered the settlement, Red Team wasted no time reconnoitering the passing area around them.

The Spartans quietly noted the various signs of conflict, both subtle and obvious, including the startling abundance of dead bodies that littered the bloody ground. Judging from the visibly fatal wounds on the deceased remains of both sides, the battle appeared to have been hard-fought. Although, the sheer number of the assorted corpses on the ground was unsettling.

One would even dare call the spectacle a dismal parody of a graveyard.

" _Damn._ " They heard the voice of Vaughan murmur over the comms.

Despite forming no verbal response, Red Team collectively agreed with the Major's sentiments. All three of the Spartans surveyed the human bodies with the precision of microscopes, as well as paying their silent respects for the recently departed. Although, every member of Red Team couldn't help but frown in puzzlement when they quickly noticed a few glaring details.

One of the more obvious was that the majority of the dead combatants appear to be all female, each of whom were reasonably well-toned and curvy. What really caught the Spartans' attention, however, was the _bizarre_ nature of their 'outfits'.

Some of them weren't wearing _any_ clothes, and their augmented eyes could pick up what appeared to be strange fluids covering the women's bodies. A couple of eyebrows were raised from behind their helmets.

"Strange that there's a lot more women among the dead, even more so with their clothing. I don't see any sort of viable protection." Alice remarked as she mulled over the sheer amount of impracticalities.

Douglas grunted, "Alice is right. There's a lot of uncovered areas, leaving weak spots vulnerable to attack."

" _Their clothes and the melee weapons on the ground suggest that they belong in some sort of pre-industrial era._ " Vaughan voiced his two cents over the comms, " _But still, that doesn't explain why in the hell they would leave themselves so exposed like that._ "

Jerome shrugged in response, "I don't know to be honest. It could be out of culture, preference, or something else completely. But for now, we have more important matters to deal with."

The rest of Red Team nodded without a word while Vaughan grunted his assent before he closed the comm channel. At the same time, Douglas perked up quickly when something was detected on the edge of his motion tracker. The Spartan glanced at his HUD briefly and looked out in front of him to see an unusual obstacle on the street, unwittingly in the recon team's path.

"Boss, contacts at twelve." Douglas pointed out calmly.

Jerome gazed to where his teammate had directed him, and narrowed his eyes once the slightest hint of realization kicked in.

Standing on the street were a pair of the green-skinned creatures, curiously staring at the vehicles that were racing toward them. The massive beasts made no effort to move out of the way, appearing more interested in observing the approaching Warthogs with dumbfounded expressions on their faces. Already, these things had made a huge mistake.

A huge mistake that was going to cost them dearly.

Immediately, Jerome punched the throttle, spurring the LRV on a collision course with the green-skinned creatures. The loud roar of the Warthog's engine appeared to have snapped the non-human entities out of their stupor, judging from the visible way the beasts widened their eyes. Once they seemed to realize the folly of their indecisiveness, the startled creatures turned tail in a frantic attempt to retreat from their impending doom.

However, it was already too late for them.

The green-skinned beasts managed to break about a few steps before three and a half tonnes of accelerating titanium crashed into their bodies. To say the least, the ending results were rather gruesome. One of the creatures went simply flying from the sheer amount of kinetic force, thrown in the air like a rag doll until its body splattered onto the wall of a nearby building.

The second of the pair suffered arguably worse, evident when it was simply _impaled_ against the LRV's forward tow cables.

Letting out a roar of pain, the Warthog's victim was practically crucified on the metal tusks, unable to do anything until one of its legs got caught underneath the wheels of the moving vehicle. A sickening crunch soon followed as the creature's body was eviscerated into two different halves, spraying douses of dark blood on the Warthog's hood and windshield.

For a second, the three Spartans felt the bisected remains tumble below the LRV's chassis. The vehicle bounced for a brief moment before settling on the ground evenly, leaving the severed body behind.

It was practically over in an instant.

"Ouch." Douglas chuckled dryly, "I don't know whether to feel bad for the poor sods."

Alice curled her lips from behind her helmet, "At least we know they're killable. If those things aren't Warthog-proof, then our weapons will probably make short work of them."

"Good, then that'll make it easier for us to complete our mission." Jerome showed his agreement through a slight nod.

Once Alice and Douglas acknowledged their leader with brief nods of their own, Jerome subconsciously established a link to Sunray 1-1's TEAMCOM channel.

"Red Team to Sunray 1-1, split up from here. Attempt to locate this settlement's leadership. We'll meet you in fifteen minutes."

Vaughan answered him back, " _Copy, Red Team. We're Oscar Mike. Happy hunting._ "

Jerome glanced over his shoulder to see Sunray 1-1's Troop Hog slow down for a brief moment before turning to a different corner, completely disappearing from the Spartan's view. The leader of Red Team sighed faintly, giving a brief look to his awaiting teammates. The ODSTs had their job to complete, and now was the time for them to fulfill their own.

Throughout the next thirty seconds of driving and weaving around the buildings, there was no encounter with more of the green-skinned creatures or any friendly forces, although the Spartans did find more obvious signs of battle along the way.

Unsurprisingly, they found even more bodies.

However, unlike before, each member of Red Team could clearly make out what appeared to be adolescent children, a minority amongst the many in the grisly pile of corpses. The three Spartans glanced at them solemnly, once again giving their silent respects before moving on without a single word.

Subtle hints of emotion passed through them briefly, but the Spartans chose not to physically acknowledge them. Instead, those feelings were redirected into a cold fury, fueling the desire to avenge those people needlessly caught in the crossfire.

To say the least, these creatures officially made it on the Spartans' shit list.

It was mere moments later until Red Team's motion trackers lit up once again, this time filled with even more contacts. From a quick glance at their HUDs, twenty-six of them appeared to be all hostiles, large red dots clumped together while the rest were identified as friendlies, painted in the color of yellow. The latter of the two seemed to be backed up against a corner, judging from the loose semi-circle the former positioned themselves into.

"We got some civilians up ahead." Douglas called from his post.

Jerome nodded stoically, "I see them."

A couple of meters out in front of them, the Spartans could see the group of stranded civilians, cornered to the wall of a large building. Surrounding them was a mob of the presumed hostiles, all twenty-six of the ugly bastards.

Every one of the creatures wore slightly more armor, wielding an array of hammers, clubs, cleavers, and axes in what looked to be a form of mocking intimidation. They advanced upon the civilians slowly, their steps causing the terrified people to step back closer against the wall.

Jerome decided to put an end to their fun by pressing onto the forward pedal slightly.

 _Vroom!_

Almost immediately, the creatures ceased their movements when they heard the distant roar of the Warthog while most of them turned around to identify the strange disturbance with alarm. It was apparent that both the beasts and the people were alerted to Red Team's presence, if their expressions of shock and curiosity were evident enough. Some of the green-skinned creatures broke off from the semi-circle, stepping forward in some misguided attempt to greet the approaching vehicle.

Jerome didn't waste any time to oblige them.

Without a second thought, the Spartan stepped on the brakes and quickly turned the steering wheel. The Warthog responded to his command almost immediately, the vehicle rotating to the right as the rear tires began to lose friction. Once the tires were mere moments from over-turning, Jerome reacted readily by turning the steering wheel in the opposite direction.

The Warthog eventually compensated for the brief loss of balance by sliding into a textbook 'drifting' maneuver, their destination crawling closer and closer.

"Light them up, Alice." Jerome ordered stoically.

Alice responded by aiming her turret at the approaching hostiles. A faint grin formed from behind her helmet, "With pleasure."

With a light pull of the trigger, the familiar whirl of the rotary barrels filled the air before the M46 Vulcan roared to life. Immediately, a deadly payload of anti-matériel rounds was unleashed upon its victims.

The targets stood no chance, to say the least.

On the receiving end of the machine gun's fury, the green-skinned creatures found themselves promptly turned into living embodiments of swiss-cheese. Quickly evident was their lack of protection against the armor-piercing rounds, their leather coverings giving way to the tiny explosions of blood that erupted from their wounds. Jerking from the sheer force of the assault, the non-human hostiles roared in pain and shock before they were quickly overwhelmed by the barrage.

Their bullet-ridden bodies collapsed on the ground, like puppets cut from their strings.

In a matter of mere seconds, the creatures were cut down to ribbons without a fight. The electronic whirl subsided eventually, trails of smoke coming from the tip of the overheating barrels. Nothing but the rumble of the Warthog's engine permeated the air.

Douglas whistled lightly at the carnage, "Wow, and I thought Grunts were this easy to kill. Alice's right. Their armor didn't do shit to stop our weapons."

"All the more reason to take advantage of the technological gap," Jerome hummed his assent, "Until then, let's worry about the civilians first."

With their opposition eliminated, Jerome began to slow the LRV down until the drifting vehicle jerked to a stop by the cornered civilians.

Exiting out of the Warthog, Red Team armed themselves with their respective weaponry as they scrutinized the scene in front of them calmly. The startled people had thrown themselves onto the ground amidst the chaos, their ears covered in a rather terrified manner. Thankfully, all of them appeared to be unharmed, which most likely resulted from the dead creatures inadvertently shielding them from the gunfire.

He didn't know whether to feel relieved or impressed by the sheer luck.

Jerome ignored their fearful stares, scanning the crowd until his stoic gaze landed upon a point of interest: a woman from the look of things. She had her eyes clenched shut, cupping both of her ears in an attempt to block out the effects of the machine gun's loud discharge. Dropped at her sides were a pair of medieval-era broadswords, two steel blades that were sullied with the traces of dark blood.

A fighter, Jerome began to realize. However, as he scrutinized the oblivious woman in front of him, he couldn't help but note an abundance of details that slowly filled him with slight befuddlement.

Especially when the Spartan noticed the more...obvious examples.

Had he been a lesser man, he wouldn't have denied that the woman was rather attractive. With short, messy hair of crimson red and curves more prominent than the hull of Covenant warships, she would have gained quite the attention back in UNSC space. Although, it wasn't the woman's unique features or unusually well-toned body that puzzled the Spartan.

The culprit was her _outfit_ , bizarre and fairly revealing in nature.

Said outfit consisted of a tight scarlet leotard, with a fur-like collar surrounding the nape of her neck to the base of her shoulders. Two fingerless gloves enwrapped her hands, followed by a black headband, a thin chocker, and a loose belt that hung above a pair of indigo pants, complimented with shin-length brown boots. Although, what ultimately soured the image was the revealing neckline, which nearly descended down to the crotch and partially exposed the front part of her body for the world to see. Her pants did little better, which failed to hide parts of the pelvis and the underside of her thighs.

Jerome narrowed his eyes slightly. Why would someone wear such a thing, much less on the battlefield, was beyond him. The strange lack of modesty puzzled him, but Spartan quickly disregarded the matter as trivial before looking down at the woman with a slight tilt of his head.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" He spoke up with concern.

At the sound of his stoic voice, the woman's eyes went wide open in surprise, "Huh?"

"Are you alright?" Jerome repeated again.

The woman's face slowly morphed into an expression of shock as her tangerine orbs gazed up to meet the looming figure of an absolute giant. She stared at the Spartan's MJOLNIR armor, olive green and nearly bulky in size, before her eyes drifted to the carapace of Jerome's lowered helmet. Even with the huge height difference, she could discern her own image on the Spartan's visor, a pane of golden glass that reflected back her stunned features, almost as if it was judging her.

The woman seemed completely flabbergasted for a moment before she shook her head.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine." She responded weakly as she lowered her hands.

It seemed English was a lot more prominent than Jerome had anticipated. Good, at least none of them had to deal with the issue of a language barrier.

"What's your name?" The Spartan inquired politely.

The woman blinked at him in confusion, "What? You don't know who I am?"

When Jerome responded with a shake of his head, she narrowed her tangerine eyes in a mixture of surprise and disbelief, "My name's Maia. You know? The Queen of Mercenaries. One of the Princess Knights of the Seven Shield Alliance. Does that ring a bell?"

Queen of Mercenaries? Princess Knight? Seven Shield Alliance? Not surprisingly, those terms went completely over the Spartan's head, but he decided to shove them in the back of his memory for future use. Even the smallest of details can make a valuable difference, after all.

"Not a clue." Jerome shook his head again.

The red-haired woman, now identified as Maia, raised a incredulous eyebrow, "How can you not? Have you guys been living under a rock or something?"

"Foreign country, actually." The Spartan corrected with a vague shrug, "We've come here under our superiors' orders to establish a friendly relationship with the leading power of this area."

A partial truth was better than the alternative in this particular situation. Jerome wasn't exactly too keen on going through the trouble explaining the _Spirit of Fire_ and their extraterrestrial origins, especially if the people on this world have no concept of interstellar space travel. That line of work was more appropriate for Professor Anders, if anything else.

Nonetheless, the woman seemed to have accepted his fabrication, albeit not without a small grain of salt.

"I see. That would explain your strange armor and...weapons."

Maia glanced at each of the peculiar black objects in Red Team's hands. Her eyes hovered especially over the massive, two-handled monster one of them was carrying. Shaking her head, the Princess Knight sighed wearily as she stowed any sense of nervousness into the back of her mind.

"Well, if you've come looking for some new friends, then you came to the right person. However, I don't want to point out the obvious— "

Maia gestured to the dead bodies on the ground, as if she was emphasizing a point, "—but you've came at a terrible time, as you can see."

"We are well aware of that." Jerome conceded with a curt nod, "We ran into some of those green-skinned creatures on our way here."

The female mercenary didn't bother to hide her bewilderment, "'Creatures?' You mean the Orcs, right?"

All three members of Red Team couldn't help but faintly tense up at her words.

None of them were expecting to hear such a statement. Whether it was the bizarre fact that monsters from mythical legend were real and living entities, or from the strange way the red-haired woman seemed so nonchalant about the topic, it didn't really matter. The entire issue was starting to become strange in of itself.

Douglas glanced at his teammates in sheer disbelief, "Orcs? You've got to be kidding me. Are we in a fucking fairytale or something?" He scoffed over the comm channel.

Alice remained silent, but the subtle shift in her demeanor showed that she pretty much shared the same thought. Jerome glanced over his shoulder and gave a faint shrug before looking back to the red-haired mercenary.

"Is that what they're called? Orcs?"

Maia was caught off-guard by the Spartan's apparent ignorance, "Yeah, Orcs. You don't have them where you're from?"

"Like I've mentioned before, we have come from a foreign place." Jerome responded while his gaze shifted ever so slightly, "However, we can worry about more questions later. Right now, we have another issue to deal with at hand."

Maia brought a hand to her hip, obviously about to object at the blatant shift in topic, "Now wait just a damn min—" before the Spartan's statement gave her momentary pause.

The red-haired mercenary narrowed her tangerine eyes, pursing her lips with some measure of hesitation. She turned her head to glance at the civilians behind her, who were watching the strange confrontation in a mixture of nervousness and curiosity.

For a brief moment, tidal waves of contrasting thoughts began to struggle with each other, and the female mercenary found herself at a loss of what to do. The startled eyes of the people only served to prolong the conflict within her.

A few seconds of utter silence passed before Maia let out a deep sigh of resignation.

"No, you're right." She conceded, "We still have these people to worry about."

Whether or not she could discern any hidden motives, the armored being was correct. More time spent attempting to relieve some unfounded suspicions would only mean more time for the green-skinned bastards to lay waste on the village. Never on her life would she dare bring harm upon the people on her account, more so on her duty as the Queen of Mercenaries. It would practically go against everything she stood for.

The woman frowned thoughtfully, her eyes unwittingly finding themselves upon Jerome's golden visor.

"Sorry if I seem really skeptical. It's not everyday you meet friendly people who are as umm..."

Maia paused for a moment, "...tall as you guys." She visibly winced at the rather lame finish.

Fortunately, the target of her apology seemed unperturbed if the curt but genuine nod was any indication, "It's fine."

A small measure of relief flooded through the mercenary. Maia let out another deep sigh as she bent down to pick up her short swords off the ground. In the meantime, she humored the thought of pushing the impromptu conversation forward.

"You're all here to stay and help, I assume?" The Princess Knight asked, twirling and inspecting her blades thoroughly.

Jerome stayed silent for a moment, his stoic gaze drifting to the remains of the deceased Orcs, "I believe we've made our intentions clear, ma'am."

"Enough with that formal crap. You're making me sound like an old lady." The red-haired woman chuckled once she gently sheathed the short swords back into their scabbards, "Just call me Maia, will ya?"

Maia didn't get a verbal response, but another polite nod from Jerome meant that he had at least acknowledged her request. She rolled her eyes faintly. In all honesty, the Princess Knight had no idea if she should be more appreciative or annoyed by the Spartan's terse silence. She decided to keep those thoughts to herself, either way.

"So...do you have any names?" Maia raised an inquisitive eyebrow, "Because to be frank, 'Big Green Giants' doesn't feel quite right, if you know what I mean."

The 'Big Green Giants' glanced at each other, their subtle postures shifting as if they were conversing with one another. It went on for a few seconds, but that brief period of time was more than enough for the three Spartans to make up their mind. Maia couldn't help but shiver a bit once she felt their hidden eyes bore onto her, concealed behind those accursed golden visors.

"Senior Chief Petty Officer Zero-Nine-Two." Jerome introduced himself.

Maia would be lying if she didn't admit that the growling monotone of Douglas nearly startled her, "Senior Chief Petty Officer Zero-Four-Two."

"Senior Chief Petty Officer One-Three-Zero." Alice's stern but clearly feminine voice took the Princess Knight aback in further surprise.

Her reaction wasn't entirely unfounded, given by the fact that the third Spartan was female — and practically the same size as her compatriots. How such a thing was possible was beyond the puzzled mercenary. However, if their bulky shells can put them at a height that would give Orcs a run for their money, then Maia didn't want to fathom the thought of these behemoths _outside_ their strange armor.

The Princess Knight eventually snapped herself out of her astonishment.

"That's...quite a handful." Maia crossed her arms with a frown, "Do you guys go by anything else, at least?"

Jerome shrugged lightly, about to respond when the distant claps of galloping reached his ears.

From the corner of his HUD, twelve new contacts suddenly appeared from the outer edges of his motion tracker. The grey color of each individual dot indicated that the newcomers were non-hostiles this time, all of which were closing in on Red Team's position at a hastened pace.

Their attention swiftly redirected, the members of both parties turned to see a small group of female warriors approaching on horseback, followed by the subsequent clicks and clangs of metal plating. The Spartans tightened the grip on their respective weaponry a bit, but ultimately decided against the notion of raising them.

Friendlies or not, it was best to be prepared for any possible conflict.

With careful silence, the members of Red Team watched the one of the riders — who the Spartans presumed to be the leader of the group — disembark from her steed. The woman, judging from a quick glance by Jerome, had the presence of a battle-hardened veteran. Combined with wavering caramel hair tied into a french braid, dark almond eyes, and an amazonian physique marred by light scars, she appeared to have experienced her own share of past conflict.

The woman jogged over to Maia, worry and relief plastered on her attractive features, "Lady Maia, are you alrig—"

Almost immediately, whatever words that were supposed to follow died in the woman's mouth when her gaze fell upon the figures of the observing Spartans. The startled woman skidded to a halt as her dark eyes widened in complete shock, a hand drifting to the hilt of her sword. However, none of her fingers managed to even graze the tip of the metal before another hand suddenly grabbed onto her wrist.

"Wait! Calypso!" Maia tried to pacify her second-in-command, "It's okay. They're friends."

The Princess Knight had no idea why, but a sinking feeling within her practically _screamed_ to not piss off her newfound allies. She wasn't exactly tempted to open what was essentially a can of worms, especially if there was the possibility of provoking the green behemoths with an accidental attack.

Eventually, those worries were put to rest when the anxious woman seemed to calm down from the assuring tone of her voice, allowing Maia to let out a deep sigh of relief. The red-haired woman slowly released her firm grip, noting the contemplative expression on her subordinate's face.

"Are you sure, milady? Can they be trusted?" Calypso inquired, raising an eyebrow once she lowered her hand to the side.

"These guys saved my life, Calypso, as well as the people behind me." Maia sighed wearily, "If it were otherwise, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. They have more than earned my trust at the moment."

Calypso bit her lower lip as she considered her superior's explanation. Her almond eyes glanced at Red Team reluctantly, "Hmm, I see. Do any of them have names?"

Maia snorted, "Yeah they do, but their 'names'—" She used her fingers to draw air quotes, "—were pretty cryptic and vague, almost like how Kaguya would explain things."

The mercenary would have chuckled to herself, but the momentary lack of energy betrayed her spirit, "However, that's hardly important right now. What matters is that we still have these people to keep safe."

Calypso nodded her assent, "My warriors and I can escort them to the Mayor's estate. We've cleared a route from the enemy on our way here, so it should be a relatively easy journey in the long run."

She let her eyes drift to Red Team momentarily. It was quite obvious that the woman was still wary of the three Spartans. The outward skepticism on her face was as clear as day. Maia caught her subordinate's gaze easily, but she decided to refrain from commenting about the matter.

"That'll make our task a whole lot easier. Good job, Calypso. I knew I can always count on you." The Princess Knight grinned, clapping on her friend's shoulder with pride.

The female warrior didn't bother to hide the proud smile on her face, "I aim to please, Lady Maia."

Maia gave a gentle nod before retracting her hand. She turned to face the awaiting members of Red Team, her grin slowly fading.

"There's still a lot of people out there that need my help, and there's no way in hell I'll ever leave them to suffer to those green-skinned bastards. If you're really here to help, I assume you guys have some sort of way of contributing?"

Jerome could see that Maia's question was mainly focused on him, if the direction of her gaze was a clear indicator.

The Spartan remained silent for a moment, his mind working overtime as he thought about the options laid out in front of him. Almost immediately, his rational side told him to just leave without a word and continue on with their mission, save them the possible trouble of liabilities.

However, whether it was a conscious choice or not, Jerome snuck a quick glance at the civilians — or to be more precise, at a young girl. The sight of the youth promptly gave him pause, and he felt the slightest trace of hesitation within him as their gazes unknowingly met in the middle. It was a staring contest only to be seen by the participants themselves, but nonetheless the innocent twinkle in the child's eyes was more than enough for the Spartan to make up his mind.

"We can assist with the escort." Jerome suggested cooly, "One of our initial assignments was to eliminate the area of all hostiles, so our objectives should be able to coincide with each other."

The Princess Knight smiled, "That's good to hear. Thank you." She nodded in satisfaction, "In the meantime, I'll stay behind and look for more stragglers on my own."

From Maia's side, the sour look burgeoning on Calypso's face showed that she was obviously less than pleased with her superior's decision.

"Alone, milady?! Are you sure? Surely, I can assign some of my troops to help—" The rambling woman was interrupted by a raised hand almost abruptly.

"No, you'll need all of them to help protect the civilians. They're your priority now." Maia shook her head pensively, "Besides, it'll be much quicker if I went by myself."

A moment later, the Princess Knight turned to glance at Red Team in an almost off-hand manner. Maia placed a hand on her hip casually, raising an eyebrow to smoothly complement the curious expression on her face.

"Unless...one of you wants to come along?" There was a hinting inflection in her voice.

Jerome could already tell where this was going, but he found little reason to deny their newfound ally of her 'request'. She could use the additional help, especially given the sheer scale of battle happening all over the settlement. Without hesitation, the Spartan turned his head to regard Douglas with the stoic gaze of an owl.

"Douglas, stay with her for now." Jerome ordered calmly, "See to it that you... _discourage_ the curious."

Douglas simply raised his SMGs in response, nodding in a subtle manner that appeared almost optimistic to his two comrades, "It'll be a pleasure."

"Hold on!" Calypso made no attempt to hide the obvious disapproval in her tone, "Lady Maia, I must object! You can't go alone with someone we don't know is even trustworthy, much less a total stranger!"

She emphasized her point by gesturing at Douglas with an accusatory finger, "What if something bad happens to you?"

Maia shook her head before placing a hand on her second-in-command's shoulder, steadily giving a good squeeze. The action was visibly firm, yet gentle in such a contrasting way that would seem almost intimate to the curious onlookers.

"I'll be fine, Calypso. I'm not asking you to trust them, but at least place your trust on me. Can you do that for me...please?" Her voice softened by a noticeable margin.

For a moment, the caramel-haired woman seemed to consider her superior's words. Her lips were pressed together in a manner of deep contemplation. Calypso's internal struggle would have endured for quite a long time, had it not ended when her conflicted features melted into an expression of pure resignation.

"I...will do as you ask, milady." Calypso sighed while her shoulders sagged wearily, "However, please be safe."

Maia grinned before she slapped her subordinate's back repeatedly, "Of course! After all, who's going to buy the celebrations drinks when we get back to Ken?"

Calypso rolled her eyes with a faint snort, "Not me, obviously. I've already paid the last dozen or so for you." She sounded exasperated.

"Really? That's strange, I don't remember any of that happening."

The mercenary whistled an innocent tune, ignoring the dirty look shot from her second-in-command, "Guess my memory's still a but fuzzy...hehe."

Calypso shook her head with an unamused sigh.

She didn't bother to mention that her superior was pretty much three sheets to the wind each time the two visited the bar, nor the fact the latter would disappear to some place unknown, probably to pick a fight with some thugs unfortunate enough to wonder the streets. Her face curled into a wince as she vividly remembered the bartender's cries of complaint and the spittle that came shortly after, an eventual outcome that came from every single one of the debacles.

Truly, there was never a dull moment when paired with the Queen of Mercenaries.

"Don't fret about it, milady. That's nothing too surprising." The woman cracked a smile before a dark glint seemed to form in her eyes.

Holding an unreadable face, the female warrior took her gaze off Maia to bear attention at the one supposedly joining her superior. Calypso's pools of dark almond met in a tense middle with the emotionless face of Douglas's visor, an odd silence lingering in-between them. For those observing closely, it didn't take much of a genius to tell that the two were practically sizing each other up.

"I don't know who you or your comrades are, and I honestly could care less at the moment."

Calypso spoke up first, breaking the ice, "However, who I do care about is Lady Maia, and Lady Maia foremost. So if anything terrible happens to her in some way, shape, or form..."

The female mercenary patted the hilt of her sword for further emphasis, "...it's on _your_ head." Her eyes narrowed vehemently.

For a moment, Douglas remained silent at the rather blatant ultimatum. In a different circumstance, the Spartan would have scoffed to himself, and maybe even let out a faint chuckle of amusement. At the same time, however, he had to give credit where it was due.

The female mercenary was surprisingly brave as she was audacious, no doubt putting up a resolute front in the face of a seven foot Spartan towering above her. Even then, the woman's sheer loyalty for her superior, which seemed to also indicate their close friendship, was a trait he found to be quite admirable. Ergo, Douglas's respect for Calypso grew by a slim notch.

Even if her hollow threats didn't faze him in the slightest.

Douglas eventually responded by taking a step closer toward Calypso, leaning over the female mercenary to growl out a single word.

"Noted." His answer was brusque, gruff in tone.

The question of whether or not Calypso became cowed by the blunt response — or from the Spartan's massive size — was left unanswered. Visibly unnerved, the woman gave a quick glare to the Spartans before she sauntered back to her awaiting entourage, who were watching the entire confrontation with a mix of curiosity and slight trepidation on their the other hand, Red Team continued to keep their calm demeanor.

They observed the retreating form of the woman with cautious care.

Trading unreadable glances with Douglas and Alice, Jerome sighed wearily as he reached behind to place his MA5B onto the magnetic holders. It was quite obvious that the Spartan didn't take kindly to the fact the woman had outright threatened one of his teammates, not like it would have done much in the first place. However, at the same time, he couldn't help but feel relieved that nothing of the drastic sort had broken out between them.

After all, the last thing the Spartans wanted to do was ward off any potential allies.

Jerome turned his head to Douglas and spoke up, "You know what to do."

"Copy, boss." Douglas nodded calmly and began to drum on the polymer grips of his SMGs, the light sounds of gloved flesh on metal filling the air.

"Just don't steal all the kills for yourself. Make sure you two leave plenty for me."

Red Team's leader let out a slight chuckle, "Can't promise that." He answered back dryly.

His response elicited a surly snort from Douglas. Shaking his head lightly, the Spartan redirected his attention to Alice, who was watching the brief interaction without a word. The subtle manner of her stance showed that the female Spartan held a slightly amused disposition.

"You're ready, Alice?" Jerome inquired.

Alice shrugged her shoulders, lifting the HMG in her hands with relative ease, "Ready whenever you are, Jerome." She responded calmly.

With a succinct nod, Jerome gestured for Alice to join him before the two Spartans took their respective positions aboard the Warthog.

Climbing into the driver's seat once more, Jerome turned his head to see Alice jump upon her place on the rear machine gun, placing her personal weapon by the side gently. The Spartan glanced back to the driving wheel, beginning to start up the vehicle's systems without wasting a single second. The fruits of his labor eventually paid off when the LRV's hydrogen engine roared to the skies with energetic life, inadvertently startling both the nearby people and Maia's warriors by the unfamiliar loud noise.

A mechanical rumble and the crunch of dirt filled the air once more before the vehicle began to start its journey.

* * *

From the side, Douglas watched the Warthog slowly guide itself to Maia's company, who were doing their part to usher the civilians into a protective circle.

As he observed the bustle for a while, his attention was suddenly redirected to the sound of approaching footsteps. Speaking of the devil, Douglas thought to himself. He tensed slightly and turned his head to see Maia slowly take her place beside him as she looked at him with slight consternation on her features.

"Hey, big guy." The Queen of Mercenaries spoke up. Her voice was filled with obvious uncertainty.

Douglas gave the faint vestiges of a tilted head, his helmet's visor shining from the nearby fires in a rather intimidating way, "Anything you need?"

The Princess Knight shook her head, "Not at all. On the contrary, I wanted to apologize for my friend's behavior toward you." There was the slightest evidence of guilt in her tone, "Calypso's a naturally distrustful person, so she's just worried for my safety, that's all. Please don't take it the wrong way."

Douglas sighed faintly. He relaxed himself as a feeling of understanding washed over him, "I don't. Her reaction is justifiable."

Maia's eyes widened, "How can you say that? After all, we just met." She questioned confusingly.

"If I were to meet a stranger with unknown capabilities, I would've acted the same way." Douglas clarified in response.

His answer combined a sense of satisfaction and puzzlement within the red-head mercenary, if her 'O' shaped lips were evident. Crossing her arms, Maia arched a single eyebrow with a gaze that staunchly relayed her curiosity.

"Hmm...I see. Then if you don't mind if I ask, what are you exactly? A knight? Golem? Your armor is unlike any other I've seen before."

Douglas wanted to scoff at the droll notion of being called a 'Knight', much less a 'Golem' of all things. Eventually, he decided to humor the Princess Knight with another vague answer, "I'm a Spartan."

If it was somehow possible, Maia's raised eyebrow would have shot up all the way to her hairline. For some unknown reason, the foreign word sent a strange feeling up her spine. It was a single word, elementary in nature — and yet the term somehow contained a faint potency. It felt almost...powerful, in an unusual sense, more so than the threat of any other weapon or monster most common in Eostia.

Maia staved off the desire to shiver and rub away the offending chill.

"Spartan? I've never heard of such a title." She let out a perplexed frown.

Douglas shrugged his shoulders faintly, "You'll find out later."

From the subtle dismissal, Maia could already tell that Douglas wanted to drop the topic. She frowned thoughtfully. Maia had hoped to gain more out of their little 'conversation', but considering the Spartan's apparent lack of interest in socialization, she decided to leave it at that with a mute nod.

"Ahh, alrighty then."

With nothing else to say, the two continued to watch the shuffling movement of the civilians and Maia's warriors, which was followed by the slow migration of Red Team's Warthog.

"Alright, let's move out!" They heard Calypso call out from her steed.

Once the pair observed the mixed group eventually depart the area — Maia, especially, kept her gaze on the Warthog with keen interest — the Queen of Mercenaries let out a sigh of anticipation before she turned to face her newfound companion. Tangerine eyes locked onto the blank surface of a golden faceplate.

"Out of the two of us, I know this entire area better." She proceeded to explain, "It'll probably be best if I lead the way."

Douglas nodded his assent and replied promptly, "Sounds good."

Maia couldn't help but let out a sigh, relieved by the lack of objections.

"Alright then, big guy. You're ready to go?" She asked before removing her broadswords from their respective sheaths.

The subsequent response came in the form of a curt "After you."

Maia smiled to herself. At least the Spartan was being polite — or probably joking, she didn't know. It was really hard to tell from the growling monotone, much less from the frustrating golden visor that hid the stranger's face. Her amusement didn't last long as the Queen of Mercenaries steeled herself quickly, twirling broadswords in her hands.

"Okay. We should go this way."

She pointed to a large alleyway across from them, "This path is probably the easiest route to the town's church — one of their camps. Most likely, that's where the green-skins are keeping some of their prisoners."

As the two stepped over the Orc bodies and started their sprint into the alleyway, Douglas regarded the Princess Knight with a puzzled gaze, "Why a church specifically?"

Maia tightened the grip on her weapons unconsciously in response. Her eyes seemed to darken by a slim margin. Both shifts in demeanor didn't go unnoticed by the observing Spartan.

"It's a little hard to explain." Maia replied in an uncomfortable tone, "In this situation, it's probably best to show and not tell."

Douglas remained silent, bewildered by the woman's hesitance. The Spartan didn't understand what the Princess Knight was trying to imply, but the more pragmatic side of his mind just told him to save Maia the trouble of any more questions. With that said, Douglas merely gave an understanding nod before their journey went onward without another word.

Throughout the silent sprint through the alleyway, the Queen of Mercenaries was starting to slowly learn a few aspects from her massive but quiet friend. One of those aspects that struck her the most, however, was the Spartan's seemingly large abundance of stamina. Maia was a woman of many things — attractive looks aside — but a slow runner was definitely not one of them.

Her well-toned body and lighter outfit in comparison to other warriors were certainly contributing factors to this dogma.

Although, it was apparent that the Spartan was just as fast, maybe even _faster_ , while somehow unhindered by the bulky green armor. The fact that the green giant was somehow _striding_ instead of running, even slowing down his pace for _her_ to catch up deflated Maia's pride by a small notch.

She didn't know whether to feel either annoyed or impressed, to say the least.

Secondly, the Spartan didn't leer at her, unlike most men she encountered throughout her life. Not that she felt offended by the lack of attention — actually, she _was_ by a tiny margin — but Maia found the Spartan's disinterest in her appearance a little disparate.

To say the least, the behavior was rather strange since she _knew_ for a fact that the stranger was a 'he', solely from the masculine voice and body shape. Maybe he was completely asexual, which Maia hoped wasn't the case, or he somehow possessed _incredible_ willpower.

Either way, this 'Spartan' was an odd one. Maia will definitely be keeping a close eye on him.

It didn't take much longer until the pair eventually reached the end of the long alleyway, cutting Maia's musings short. The silence that permeated the journey moments before was quickly interrupted by multiple screams emanating from within the building across from them, which Maia correctly assessed to be the town's primary church. Standing guard in front of the holy place were a group of six Orcs, the monsters chuckling in amusement at the collective cries of suffering.

Their attention, however, was soon redirected when Maia and Douglas made their presence known.

Almost immediately, the Mercenary Queen felt six pairs of eyes fall upon her while the scent of their foul body odor quickly reached her nose. Judging from the lecherous grins and lustful eyes, it was already clear what the Orcs intended to do with her. Maia scowled in defiance, once again shifting her body into a defensive stance.

"Shit!" She crossed the two broadswords in front of her face as one of the Orcs eventually decided to make a move.

With a loud roar, the lone Orc lifted its weapon and began to charge at the pair, fully intent on taking Maia as a prize. As the Princess Knight tensed her body with the monster bearing down on her, both combatants were so focused on each other that they didn't notice the way Douglas slowly began to raise one of his arms from behind Maia.

The Orc managed to break about a few steps forward before a sudden score of multiple ' _cracks_ ' rang through the air, startling pretty much everyone within the vicinity. As for the charging Orc itself, the beast quickly found its body riddled with bloody holes...including one torn right into its throat.

While the Orc fell onto the ground and desperately clawed at its neck from the sudden lack of oxygen, both Maia and the dying Orc's compatriots directed their surprised gaze to the stoic Douglas. A trail of smoke rose from the barrel of one of his M7 SMGs.

"What the..."

The Spartan lowered the weapon, quietly shifting his head to the Queen of Mercenaries. The red-head was gaping at him, her eyes filled with poorly hidden surprise. Douglas merely responded with a faint nod before he took a gradual step forward...

...and seemingly _blurred_ right into the faces of the equally shocked and horrified Orcs.

The monsters didn't even have the chance to react until all literal hell broke loose.

The first of the Spartan's victims let out a loud scream when one of its kneecap was suddenly shattered into pieces from a precise strike, courtesy of a titanium boot, before the monster's cries of pain were promptly silenced with a quick burst of bullets. Startled, the remaining Orcs attempted to face their new adversary, but the Spartan's speed ensured that he was already on top of them.

Douglas spread his SMGs apart in two directions and open fired, sending waves of careless metal directly into the faces of two stunned Orcs. The sheer number of FMJ rounds meant that the monsters' facial structures were completely _sheared_ as a result, turning what were formerly ugly faces into bloody but more tolerable forms of swiss cheese.

Once the Orcs fell to the ground in twisted heaps, Douglas glanced at his motion tracker to see a contact quickly bearing down on him and promptly ducked down as a hammer strike aimed for his head simply passed overhead. The Spartan turned his gaze to the surprised Orc and pulled the trigger, releasing an entire magazine of rounds that traveled from the monster's abdomen to the the base of the head in one precise trail.

Nothing but a bullet-filled pin cushion, the dead body collapsed on the ground without so much as a single sound.

With the Orc sent to the afterlife, the Douglas rotated his head to greet the last of his green-skinned enemies, only to meet the wooden face of a club swung by said Orc. It seemed for the split second that Douglas was fighting the last Orc, the beast had regained its bearings and attempted to launch a vain attempt to land a hit on the unaware Spartan.

However, the results shocked both the Orc and Maia when the club not only did no visible damage, but the weapon actually _shattered_ against the side of Spartan's head, jerking Douglas ever so slightly from the force of the blow. Both were taken back even further when a translucent golden barrier formed all around the Spartan's body, negating the strike that would have been undoubtedly fatal to someone with less protection.

MJOLNIR energy shielding, the pinnacle of human science and engineering.

As Douglas swiftly recovered from the strike, the Orc continued to dumbly stare at the stump of its club in an obvious sign of complete puzzlement. Its sluggish mind began to draw blanks, flabbergasted by the fact that the Spartan somehow survived the blow. Then a deadly backhand to the face promptly ended its thoughts and life, a sickening crunch following after.

Nothing but still silence soon permeated the air.

With all the hostiles eliminated, Douglas let out a silent sigh before lowering his SMGs into a more relaxed position. His head perked up to chocking squeaks from behind him and the Spartan turned around to be greeted by a sight that was rather amusing.

Standing there was the silent form of the Mercenary Queen, who merely stared unabashedly at Douglas with eyes that seemed _very_ close to bulging out of their sockets. Maia's jaw nearly hit the floor from the stunning display and the grip on her broadswords loosened by a notch she didn't even realize.

Astonishment, awe, and complete shock rolled off the woman in metaphorical waves.

"But..." Maia alternated her gaze from Douglas to the bodies in a slightly frantic manner, "But...how?! How the hell was that possible?!"

Douglas shrugged, "I said you'll find out later." He answered vaguely.

Sheer confusion overtook her shock previously left over, but the Spartan quickly interrupted her before the Mercenary Queen could ask any more questions.

"We should go." Douglas stated calmly, "Those people inside will need our help."

With that said, the Spartan began his quiet approach to the church and left Maia to stare at him from behind. The Princess Knight frowned as she lowered her broadswords, tangerine eyes narrowing warily. A multitude of conflicting thoughts and emotions raged inside her mind, more so than they had ever before. What eventually came after were a set of unanswered questions.

Who was this 'Spartan'?

What were those strange weapons in his hands?

Where did he even come from from?

However, from the spectacle she had witnessed mere moments ago and the subsequent results that followed shortly after, the more rational side of her mind simply conveyed a single but profound message that Maia couldn't help but ultimately agree with.

She was incredibly lucky to have the Spartan on her side.

* * *

Gripping on the hilt of her broadswords more tightly, the Princess Knight scoffed at her internal misgivings before she jogged in a quick attempt to tail her massive friend.

Maia quickly arrived by the church's closed doorway next to Douglas, who appeared to have been patiently waiting for her to catch up. Now that the pair were positioned right in front of the church, the multiple screams that were heard before became much more intense...

...and all of which clearly feminine.

Eyes widened in absolute horror once Maia felt realization kick in, "Oh no..."

From the side, Douglas was gazing at the slightly pale woman with some measure of puzzlement. The Spartan had no idea what could possibly cause the Princess Knight so much dismay, but judging from the screams alone, it obviously wasn't a pleasant situation. Raising a SMG in one hand while placing the palm of the other hand onto the door, Douglas tensed himself for the confrontation he knew for sure was inevitable.

"I'll take the lead." He said, his gruff voice snapping the Princess Knight out of her stupor.

Maia continued to look a bit uneasy, but she managed to respond with a terse nod, "Right behind you."

Douglas waited for the Mercenary Queen to take her position before he raised his weapon...and gently pushed the door open. Ducking under the doorframe, the Spartan entered into the building with quick but silent grace, raising his other SMG stealthily while Maia quietly followed him from behind. As Douglas inspected the expansive interior calmly, Maia felt the familiar feeling of horror come back in full force when her widened eyes fell upon the spectacle in the center of the room.

To say the least, the pair had stumbled onto a scene straight out of a nightmare.

Groups of young women, some even _younger,_ lay on the ground with their hands tied onto wooden poles, clothes torn into unrecognizable shreds. The most horrifying part, however, was the strange red creatures crawling over their bare bodies. A mixture of pleading cries and gleeful cackles filled the chamber as the women endured through the endless tongues and claws groping at their flesh while some had the unfortunate luck of being forced upon right on the spot.

They were being raped. Douglas scowled from underneath his helmet.

Either from recognition or plain desperation, their helpless cries seemed to further intensify when few of the captive women spotted Maia and Douglas. Watery eyes began to beg — no, _scream_ — for the two to come and save them from their horrific fate while the tormentors themselves seemed too focused on their debauchery to even fully notice the newcomers' arrival.

Maia couldn't take anymore of the madness and snarled, "Imps."

Douglas lowered his SMGs for a moment, taking his gaze off the scene to glance at the Mercenary Queen. Maia looked up to meet his faceless gaze in response, almost as if she could sense his impending question.

"Imps. They're small but cunning bastards." She explained quickly, "Weaker by themselves, but really dangerous when in large numbers."

Douglas let out a thoughtful hum in response. His mind absorbed all of the information like a dry sponge.

Then a moment later, the Spartan quietly set aside his SMGs before sauntering forward suddenly. Calmly ignoring Maia's bewildered stare, Douglas proceeded to approach one of the captive women: a young girl who barely appeared to be on the brink of adulthood.

The imp that was latched onto her body began the process of letting its lust known to the whimpering girl, who turned her head away with clenched eyes. Both were completely unaware of the looming figure behind them. With a cackle of anticipation, the salivating demon was mere inches away from forcing itself onto its teary-eyed victim.

That was...until an armored hand suddenly shot out and grabbed the imp by the neck, prying the creature off the now surprised girl with effortless ease.

Caught off-guard, the imp began to trash around and attempted to snarl at the one who dared to interrupt its personal fun. The demon's anger, however, was soon extinguished into absolute fear when the imp came face to face with Douglas, who closely scrutinized his prey in a rather ominous silence. Terrified at the intimidating sight of its captor, the creature screeched and struggled even more in the Spartan's steel-like grip, as well as resorting with scratches and kicks at his armored forearm to no avail.

Douglas watched the squirming imp in his hand for a moment...

...then he started to slowly _squeeze_.

The reaction was immediate.

Letting out chocking squeals, the imp began to redouble its efforts as a torturous pressure tightly enclosed around the demon's throat. No matter how much it struggled, it wasn't long until the unbearable pain proved to be too much for the creature. Beady eyes practically popped out of their sockets and the flailing intensified...before the sounds of broken bones eventually filled the air.

The imp stopped moving, its body dangling in the Spartan's grasp. Once the squeals fell silent, Douglas tossed his dead quarry aside with casual indifference.

If the other imps weren't aware before, the sound of the lifeless body colliding with the floor certainly caught their attention.

One by one, agitated growls permeated the chamber when the red demons redirected their sinister gazes to Douglas and Maia. The creatures detached themselves from the women and took out their weapons, but the Spartan was more than ready for them.

In an almost nonchalant manner, Douglas reached behind his back to grab a secondary tool of war: his M90 shotgun. He racked the weapon's pump as one of the imps lunged into the air with a screeching battle cry. It didn't even manage to close the distance before a deafening 'boom!' echoed throughout the chamber.

What followed was the sight of the imp's head suddenly _disintegrating_ into a cloud of blood and brain matter.

Douglas watched the rest of the demons jerk to a stop at the loud discharge as he pumped the shotgun, ejecting the spent shell into the air. Ignoring the frightened screams of the women, the Spartan pointed the weapon at the nearest imp and pulled the trigger. The resulting blast sent the unfortunate imp flying into the air, a massive hole where the powerful pellets collided with the demon's chest.

All too easy, Douglas mused quietly.

Soon, the battle became a rinse and repeat process as Douglas found himself blasting away imps into bloody heaps whenever they tried to get too close. One even found itself hit at such close range that the pellets completely tore apart the demon's body, turning the imp into an unrecognizable pile of meaty goo. Another was practically missing the entire bottom half of its body before a boot sent by the Spartan quickly ended the imp's misery and screeches of pain.

However, the one-sided battle was soon put on hold when the shotgun let out a useless 'click', finding itself firing no more.

While Douglas looked down at his weapon calmly, the remaining imps pressed the momentary pause to their advantage and quickly charged at the Spartan. It was not long before Douglas became literally _covered_ in a blanket of screeching imps, each of whom attempting to jab and stab at him with ardent effort. The titanium armor, exposed skin suit, and even his faceplate, the imps thrusted their blades at every imaginable spot they could find.

'Clink'

'Clink'

'Clink'

Although, it was eventually apparent that the rusted metal of their weapons didn't so much as trigger the Spartan's energy shields, much less leave a scratch on his armor. As the imps ceased their attacks in confusion, Douglas decided that he had quite enough...

...by giving a violent shake of his body, throwing the terrified demons off of him and into the air.

They were tenacious little bastards, he had to give them that.

With more breathing room, the Spartan took the brief time to reload his shotgun with more shells while the creatures moaned on the floor in disorientation. One imp managed to rise on its feet, dizzy and confused, until the demon's head was suddenly removed from the shoulders. More imps found themselves joining their dead comrade into the afterlife, screaming in collective pain.

A pair of steel blades stained the floor with their life fluids and body parts.

"Die, you bastards!"

One swing bisected an imp into clean halves. Another was relieved of an arm and leg.

"I'll fucking kill you!"

Someone else wanted to join in the fun, it seemed.

Douglas paused briefly to observe Maia charge into the fray, her broadswords cutting through the imps like butter. Her strikes were precise, nearly graceful, and the sheer _determination_ in her attacks surprised the Spartan for a moment. From the looks of it, the horrifying treatment the demons brought upon the women had angered his companion greatly. Her enraged cries and burning glare were perfect examples of her reaction to the injustice.

Douglas couldn't really blame her. The cold fury that burned within him showed he pretty much felt the same way.

Once he filled the magazine with enough shells, Douglas racked the shotgun's pump and took aim. A pull of the trigger later, the imp that was attempting to sneak up behind Maia suddenly fell forward without a head. The unexpected shower of blood shocked Maia out of her anger, but the surprise faded quickly when her eyes were locked in the middle with the Spartan's faceplate. Within that moment, there was no verbal exchange in-between them.

The silent but understanding gazes the two shared with each other, however, spoke otherwise. Conflicted thoughts and feelings were put aside while whatever misgivings or suspicions the pair might have thought of each other were momentarily erased.

Both of them knew what they had to do.

Douglas and Maia wasted no time bringing their respective weapons to bear, and the slaughter of the red demons continued on without another word. No quarter was given, each sword swing or shotgun blast cutting down the imps with relative ease. Slowly but surely, the creatures began to realize the folly of fighting against the force of nature that was the deadly pair.

'Swish!'

Their beady eyes observed a broadsword tear into an unfortunate victim with vicious hunger.

'Boom!'

They watched in stunned silence as one of their comrades got eviscerated into a pile of meaty gore.

'Cha-chink!'

Their ears picked up the sound of the spent shotgun shell flying into the air, right before it landed on the dirty floor...

'Clink!'

...and soon enough, the imps had finally reached their breaking point. In a faintly comedic manner, the demons started to turn tail in the hopes of outrunning their impending executioners, more interested on maintaining their survival. They screamed in absolute terror, thoughts of lust and anger long forgotten.

However, the demons' attempts were nothing but a hopeless futility.

It was not long before their numbers dwindled one by one as they were systematically cut down, which eventually left a single imp standing amongst a pile of bloody bodies. The creature in-question, however, was obviously in no mood or shape to even fight back. One of its arms was just completely missing, and a broken ankle left the panicking demon limping toward the exit.

Douglas watched the poor thing stumble away from him pitifully, not bothering to finish it off. Sensing no more threats, the Spartan lowered his shotgun as he calmly turned his attention to Maia. The woman was eying the imp with a cold expression, an unsurprising sight for the Spartan, while she flicked the fresh blood off her broadswords in a disturbingly casual manner.

Might as well let her finish the job.

"Do you want to do the honors?" Douglas asked gruffly.

Maia's eyes remained the same, but the grin that formed on her face was absolutely vicious, "Gladly."

The female mercenary began to approach the hobbling imp, each footstep echoing throughout the church. Her movements were slow but smooth, almost as if she was a dancer, while the sound of her blades scrapping against the floor only signified the harbinger of an approaching storm. If one were to compare this situation with a wolf hunting a deer, it would have been quite the appropriate analogy.

Maia was the hunter — and the imp was now _her_ prey.

As the Mercenary Queen came closer, the imp reacted with a fearful squeal. The injured creature started to stumble even faster, but the change in pace was negligible at best. Even if it could somehow close the gap, it was already too late for the doomed imp.

The wolf had finally caught up with the deer.

A boot lashed out and swept underneath the demon's legs, knocking it flat onto the floor. The imp barely had time to let out a scream before a pair of steel blades pierced into its back, vengefully and relentlessly slicing through flesh. However, it didn't stop there. Maia removed one of the blades swiftly before she reversed the grip and plunged it back in, doing the same with the other in a brutal rhythm.

Each strike was accentuated by a throaty snarl, drowning out the squeals that came from her tortured victim. It didn't really matter to Maia how much she was dishing out or how long she was going to go at it. She was going to make sure the imp felt every second of pain and suffering it had brought upon the women, one way or another. From the side, Douglas watched in faint fascination and concern as his companion continued to hammer her vengeance onto the struggling imp.

It was clearly a losing battle for the dying creature.

Slowly but surely, the pained screeches started to die down and eventually the demon stopped squirming, lying face first in a growing pool of its own life fluid. Maia stopped likewise as she collapsed on her knees, letting the bloodied broadswords drop to her sides.

Nothing but her tired breathing and sobbing from the captive women filled the air.

Maia remained where she was for what seemed like an eternity before the sound of heavy footsteps snapped her out of her stupor. She looked behind to see her Spartan friend standing over her, his M90 shotgun — or 'thunder staff', she had come to know it as — held in one hand.

He didn't let out a single word, which made the green-clad giant all the more intimidating as his golden visor seemed to bore onto her intently. Maia merely stared back with her own weary eyes, too exhausted to even come up with a snarky remark.

However, she never expected the seconds that followed soon after.

In a silent show of what appeared to be respect and kindness, Douglas extended out and offered his unoccupied hand. Caught off-guard, Maia blinked and stared at his open palm for a moment. To say that she was surprised would have been a completely massive understatement.

However, as her thoughts were drifting all over the place, she began to feel something _familiar_ within her. It was a vague feeling she had not felt for a long, long time. A vague feeling of comfort, warmness, and safety.

Safety...yes, she felt _safe_ around the Spartan. Maia had no idea why, but she just _did_. It made her somewhat nervous and excited at the same time, to say the least. But most importantly, however, she felt _happy_. She was happy to have Douglas by her side.

So, with a small but genuine smile, Maia slowly reached out and grabbed onto his gloved hand.


	4. Enemy of my enemy

**AN: Here's a toast to another chapter.**

 **I'm going to be very honest and blunt here...I had no idea if this chapter would come out today, or even on any other day. As you can tell by the _mile_ -long intermission, I took my sweet ass time with this one. You can say a lot of factors play into this: I just started college, multiple back and forth revisions, and _procrastination_. If it weren't for the last one especially, I probably would've got this out sooner. Anyway, I want to thank those who continue to support this story. It inspires me to levels you cannot imagine...so keep it up!** **Any and all feedback** **(Including negative, which I definitely deserve at this point)** **will be appreciated.**

 **Also, if any of you can spot the little "pattern" regarding with some of the characters, brownie points to you.**

* * *

 **Exitus Acta Probat**

 **Chapter 3: Enemy of my** **enemy**

 **Location: 'Wakefield' Village**

 **Date: [March 28, 2559] [08:50 UNSC Standard Military Time]**

* * *

If anyone had told Major Vaughan that creatures from mythical fantasy existed, he would have probably scoffed in amusement and called out on their bullshit.

However, it appeared that fate had decided to prove him wrong.

The ODST ducked down, narrowly dodging a spear thrown at his head before he returned fire with his M7 SMG. The suppressor attachment on his weapon made sure the normally loud discharges were as quiet as ghostly whispers, complementing the firepower that made short work of his newfound target. Jerking from the retaliation, the tusked creature stumbled for a moment until it collapsed to the ground in a bloody heap.

Letting out a satisfied grunt, Vaughan reloaded the SMG with deft movement before shifting his focus onto a new target.

This literal turkey shoot had been going on for quite a while now. Ever since Sunray 1-1 had arrived at their destination, Vaughan and his squad were immediately thrown into action when waves of unknown creatures rushed at them with hostile intent. It was a rather easy affair to put them down, especially since the hostiles lacked any sort of protection against UNSC firearms. Any sense of intermission was far and few, however, when _more_ of the creatures began to appear, slowly pushing the ODSTs further into the defensive.

Although they were doing well, considering the circumstances.

Vaughan would have even enjoyed this if these new enemies weren't such a tenacious bunch. As much of a child's play they were in comparison to the Covenant, there were still _a lot_ more of them and less of him. Their sheer numbers were beginning to burn through the ammo supply, a fact Vaughan found to be less than comforting.

The veteran ODST gritted his teeth as he rose from cover, quickly raising his SMG. His finger was barely on the trigger before a sword made the sudden show of cleaving through the neck of his target. It was a clean swing, and the headless body fell to the ground without a single sound.

Well...at least Sunray had the support of their newfound allies.

Vaughan lowered his SMG to watch the female warrior flick the dark blood off her blade, her glare burning through the corpse of the 'Orc' she had just dispatched. Aside from the...less than modest outfit, the ODST would have believed the woman in front of him to be a supermodel rather than a combatant. With curly blonde hair, stormy grey eyes, and a slim physique that fit her warrior role, she easily outclassed most of the women Vaughan had met throughout his life in the looks department.

Not to mention her exceptional combat skills.

The beautiful woman took one last look at her dead quarry before glancing at the ODST. She let out a small but warm smile, "Hail, Major Vaughan."

"Miss Annabeth." Vaughan replied with a polite nod, "Thank you for the assistance."

Annabeth nodded as well, "It's my pleasure."

Her gaze alternated between the ODST and the deceased Orc at her feet. Her strange demeanor went on for a brief moment until her eyes lit up, the faint smile on her face contorting into a humorous grin, "Oh, I'm sorry. Was I interrupting something?"

"Oh no." Vaughan shook his head jokingly.

Deep down, he had a feeling of where this was going and responded accordingly, "That son of a bitch was going too _fast_ for me. I probably would have been in _trouble_ if you hadn't stepped in." The ODST said sarcastically.

Annabeth's response was equally sardonic, "I had to. You were tinkering with that strange staff of your's for too long."

This cheeky woman had a sense of humor. If Vaughan were any other person, he probably would have called her a keeper. Even then, the veteran ODST was more or less perplexed by the woman's sudden friendliness towards him and his squad.

It was definitely quite the startling contrast when compared to the moment Annabeth first encountered him and his team.

At first, the ODSTs had been met with hostility and suspicion from the woman and her subordinates. Both sides tensed into some sort of Mexican standoff, weapons of advanced and primitive nature facing against one another in a show of silent vigilance. Numerous eyes widened at the appearance of the faceless strangers, while the spooked women occasionally glanced at the Warthog in a combination of curiosity and alarm.

The tense atmosphere would have gone on for an eternity, had it not been for the sudden arrival of an orc warband.

The sight of the stampede and their monstrous roars were more than enough to break the uneasy impasse. And accordingly, Sunray 1-1 had been the first ones to respond. The subsequent _massacre_ that took place left Annabeth and her female warriors to gape in a stunned silence. They couldn't help but feel shocked by the _sheer_ ease in which the black-clad strangers had wiped out the approaching war band, all in the while using strange staffs instead of swords to somehow leave Orcs on the ground with deadly wounds.

It was almost as if they were using magic.

Vaughan could already imagine something along those lines to be their thought process. However, the persistent attacks from more orc war bands had interrupted any more thoughts or suspicions once the danger of becoming overrun was very apparent. And just as quickly, both the women and Sunray were forced into a situation where they had to work together to fight off a common foe.

 _'The enemy of my enemy. Or some bullshit like that.'_ Vaughan thought humorlessly.

It was a tedious half an hour, and probably the most cliché thing Vaughan ever experienced in his entire life, but at least he and his team were making some sort of headway. For one, the female warriors had eventually ceased their hostilities once Sunray 1-1 made their intentions known through their actions. Even Annabeth's harsh demeanor diminished into a sort of friendly camaraderie when she began to fight alongside the ODSTs. Or more specifically, the Major himself.

Nonetheless, their current situation was no less precarious.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Vaughan rolled his eyes before he let out a few shots, killing an incoming Orc and narrowly saving his banter with Annabeth, "My 'strange staff' is currently kicking ass at the moment. Excuse me for taking my sweet time."

Annabeth covered her mouth in a failed attempt to stifle a laugh, "I concede to that. Your weapon is very impressive. However—"

Her gaze took on a vicious gleam, a complete departure from her warmer side as she eyed an approaching group of red-skinned imps.

She twirled her sword idly, "—I can do you one better."

Then without a moment's pause, Annabeth took off and raced toward her intended targets.

The tiny creatures prepared their own blades in response, but in their own anticipation had severely underestimated the danger that was quickly coming their way. In comparison to the bigger but dumber orcs, imps shared a more clever mindset that complemented very well with their natural agility. An advantage such as this would normally be troublesome to most inexperienced fighters, but the female warrior was by no means inexperienced.

A fact that Annabeth was more than content to show off.

With a valiant cry, the woman maintained her charge until she suddenly threw herself into the air. It was an immense jump, one which Annabeth kept very briefly before she landed into a practiced roll...right into the _rear_ of the imp horde. The creatures themselves halted in place as they quickly turned to face the female warrior within their midst. If their wide eyes were any indication, it was apparent the imps were caught off guard by the unexpected move.

Annabeth didn't allow them any more time to react.

Tightening the grip on her sword, the woman eyed the imps within her perceptual vision before she made the first move. The first of her victims died to the sound of splattering blood as her sword traveled into the imp with neat but brutal proficiency. Without a moment's notice, Annabeth pulled her weapon out of the lifeless body and shifted her stance, bringing her bloodied blade to bear. She thrusted in an upward motion, slicing through another imp as if it were nothing more than a piece of butter.

The creature was dead long before its severed halves fell to the ground.

As quickly as it had started, the death of their two comrades snapped the remaining imps out of their stupor. Angered growls filled the air. The creatures drew their lowered blades as they began to charge at the woman with undisguised fury. Annabeth merely raised her sword in response, resolute even in the face of odds much larger than one could ever handle.

She appreciated a good challenge, after all.

However, before she could even meet the approaching imps, three of them listed and suddenly collapsed onto the ground. Blood began to ooze out of their foreheads like fountains. The remaining imps squawked and halted immediately as they retreated a good distance away to avoid the same fate. On the other hand, Annabeth lowered her sword slightly, blinking in a moment of justifiable confusion.

That was until she turned her head to the sight of Major Vaughan and his raised SMG.

The ODST had somehow sidestepped around the imp horde while he positioned himself discreetly into a spot where he was right next to the woman. As he lowered his weapon ever so slightly, the Major regarded her with a look that was apparent enough to notice through even his helmet's polarized visor.

"Ma'am, I don't know _what_ you're trying to prove, but there's no way in hell I'm letting you do this fight alone." Vaughan admonished lightly.

Annabeth sent a faint glare to the ODST and pouted, "Hmm! I can take them."

"And I'm fucking Jesus Christ himself." Vaughan shook his head as he let out a small sigh. There was a stern tone in his voice that brooked no argument, "Yeah, I'm staying with you. Whether you like it or not isn't up for debate. You hear me?"

Annabeth had no idea who this 'Jesus Christ' character was, nor did she bother to care at the moment. However, the female warrior couldn't help but feel a bit... _touched_ by the Major's concern for her well-being. He was a persistent one to be sure, but at least when compared to most men who attempted the same effort, his intentions contained a genuine _honesty_ that made her heart flutter a bit like a butterfly. It was rather endearing, to say the least.

And considering their current situation, that was all she could ever ask for.

"Alright. You win."

Annabeth raised a hand half-heartedly before letting out a small smile, "Either way, this is going to be quite a challenge for the two of us. Do you think you can keep up, Major Vaughan?"

The response she received was the sound of a spent magazine hitting the floor, "Miss Annabeth, I believe the actual question we should be asking is—" followed by the click of the ODST placing a fresh one into his empty firearm, "—can _you_ keep up?"

Annabeth remained silent at first as she returned her gaze to the imps, who began to approach the pair with newfound confidence. However, the obvious challenge set by Vaughan affected her in a way she admittedly did not even expect. It ignited the burning fire in her eyes more brightly than before, unseen by everyone else within the vicinity. Passion and confidence filled her being, a mixture that was just as volatile as the impending battle ahead of her.

The feeling was absolutely cathartic.

"You're on."

Major Vaughan nodded, accepting of her answer before he switched his hidden gaze to the mass of creatures before him. The unlikely pair stood their ground, silent and unbothered by the overwhelming numbers. On the other hand, the surrounding imps inched closer as if they were a tidal wave approaching the shoreline.

Then the horde let out a collective screech.

As one, the imps pounced onto the two humans, daggers and knives held out with vicious intent. Annabeth rushed onward to meet them first. She blocked the first strike with her sword before she thrusted her weapon forward, killing the imp in a fierce counterattack.

Another attempted to sneak from behind the woman, only to be thwarted by a burst of gunfire from her UNSC counterpart. Vaughan turned his body to mow down a group of the creatures while he used the butt of his SMG to crack the skull of a nearby imp. And just as quickly he grabbed his combat knife out of its sheath, twisting around to lodge the blade into an eye socket of another unfortunate victim.

The imp was dead before it could register a thought.

As Vaughan yanked the knife out of the twitching body, he found himself stumbling a bit from sudden extra weight pressed onto his back. The Major hissed out a quite curse once he realized his own mistake. It seemed that the ODST had been somewhat careless in his own concentration, and now he was paying the price by allowing one of the fuckers to get the jump on him.

Time to remedy this error.

Vaughan let his SMG drop to the floor, and used his free hand to firmly grab the leg of the imp attached to his rucksack. Without giving the creature so much as a chance to react, the ODST let out a small grunt before he practically _launched_ the offending imp over his shoulder. The imp screeched in fear when it was swung over Vaughan's head, flailing like how a newborn bird would leave the nest.

For a moment, the Major watched the imp fly overhead with a faint smirk of satisfaction. The feeling of terror within said imp betrayed otherwise. Nonetheless, it was not long until gravity gave a prompting reminder of where it belonged, and the creature squawked out a pained yelp before crashing onto the hard surface of the ground in front of the ODST. Disoriented, the imp loosened its hand to reveal a slightly dented dagger as it began to roll over the floor.

Stupid bastard actually had the balls to try stabbing him through his BDU.

Vaughan was more than happy to punish the imp for its transgression. The ODST placed a firm foot onto the imp's torso and wasted no time plunging his combat knife into the skull of his struggling target. The imp squeaked pitifully, twitching for a moment until whatever synapses still left within its brain ceased to function. Once the body eventually stopped moving, the Major looked up to see a small number of imps racing toward him.

They seemed pretty pissed off, judging from their vengeful screeches.

Vaughan grunted in annoyance as he snatched the combat knife from his latest kill, only to barely sidestep the dagger aimed for his neck. Without a moment's pause, the ODST proceeded to slash the offending imp's throat while blocking a subsequent strike with his own blade. And just as swiftly the Major retaliated with a vicious kick into the stomach of the second imp, sending it sailing into the opposite direction at high speeds.

If given the chance to, the creature would have squawked in surprise...had it not flew into a head-on collision that sent both it and a group of its buddies collapsing onto the ground. The ending result was a rather awkward mess of a heap. The remaining imps, at least the ones that were still alive and standing, began to approach the ODST more hesitantly. Given that they had witnessed their comrades get taken down so easily, their newfound caution was not without valid reason.

And the fact a _single_ human was the source of their troubles left more than just a sour taste in their mouths.

Vaughan, on the other hand, was not so concerned. He continued to face down his adversaries, watching both the imps and the surrounding area with a silent but calculating gaze. Twirling the knife in his hand, the Major waited until the creatures were within arm's reach before he decided to take the initiative.

"Alright, you fuckers." Vaughan sneered quietly, "You want me? _Come and get me_."

To say the least, the ensuing fight became quite an unfortunate turn of events for the imps. In any other situation, their prudence and larger numbers would have likely worked on an enemy of a lesser caliber. It was a sound strategy that defeated even the most determined and skilled Eostian warriors in the past, so _surely_ this one would fall to the same fate.

Sadly for them, their approach made no less of a difference when facing against a veteran ODST.

Screams and blood began to fill the air as Vaughan showcased his proficiency in close-quarters combat. The Major spared no quarter, dodging and parrying strikes aimed for his vital areas while he sliced through imps as if he were a butcher in a slaughterhouse. The flurry of motion became a dance of some sort, developing into a show that was far too quick for the untrained eye. It was a clash between skill and quantity.

A battle between perseverance and persistence.

However, as the battle continued on, it was slowly becoming apparent that the former could only get a person so far. And from the ever increasing number of imps surrounding him, the ODST was starting to learn this fact the hard way. Vaughan blocked an incoming knife with his own, ignoring the sparks produced from the blade-on-blade friction before he severed the offender's windpipe with viper-like motion.

The creature gurgled, clutching its throat in a desperate attempt to stem the blood flow. It was a futile gesture in the end. Vaughan watched the thing struggle for a moment before it eventually asphyxiated, overtaken by the lack of oxygen. As the dead body collapsed in a pool of blood, the grisly sight was suddenly replaced by the appearance of two more imps, who stepped up to take their comrade's place.

This was starting to get out of hand.

For each imp he dispatched, _more_ of them just seemed to pop up out of each other's asses. It was absolutely infuriating. And if _that_ wasn't bad enough, the spot of trouble he was starting to find himself in would only grow _much_ worse unless he could spot some sort of endgame.

Vaughan let his silent gaze wander for a bit, all in the while picturing the imps in front of him as nothing more than weeds in a garden. Well, at least the two had something in common. They were _both_ difficult to remove without some sort of weed killer.

His grip on the combat knife tightened, "Damn, if only I had a weed killer of own..."

That was when Vaughan felt a train of realization hit the back of his head.

Or more specifically, that was when he quickly realized _something_ was attached to the back of his rucksack. Swinging his knife to scare off nearby imps, Vaughan began to step back slowly before he reached behind him to pluck the item in question from his rucksack's hard points. As he had been caught up in his fight with the creatures, what was revealed in his hand became nothing short of a genuine surprise for the blinking ODST.

His customized M41 SPNKR, fully loaded and ready to go.

A hidden grin mirrored his delight. _Perfect_ , just what he needed. Inspecting the mustang paint job on the underside, Vaughan spun the barrels of the rocket launcher as he stowed away his combat knife. Then suddenly, he felt his entire body stiffened in place. The ODST started to realize that he was actually missing something. Or more importantly, it was almost as if he was missing someone...

...oh crap, he forgot about Annabeth.

Widening his eyes, Vaughan turned his head around to see where his female companion had wandered off. The ODST couldn't help but feel a bit worried, grimacing at the thought of accidentally leaving the woman to fend for herself. The displeasure was exemplified by his hidden scowl.

"Shit! Can't believe I fucking forg—"

Then his eyes fell upon an unexpected, but _very_ welcome sight.

About a good distance away from his position, Annabeth stood quietly in the middle of rather _large_ piles of imp corpses. It was quite apparent that even without his assistance the female warrior was more than capable of handling herself, if the sheer amount of blood soaking on her sword indicated as much. Although, judging from her labored breathing and the listless look on her face, the woman's prior enthusiasm had dwindled to a much more...stern level than before.

Vaughan could honestly care less about her attitude change. However, as much as he didn't want to admit it out loud, the ODST was _very_ glad to see that Annabeth remained safe and sound. After all, he had no intention of losing a friend he just made today.

"Annabeth!" Vaughan called out.

At the sound of his voice, the woman shifted her slightly tired gaze to him, "Major Vaughan?" She blinked in momentary surprise, "What is it?"

"Nothing." The ODST hefted the SPNKR onto his right shoulder, "Just run over here and get behind me."

Annabeth tilted her head in an interrogative manner, "Why? Are you asking me to retreat? We can take these bastards!" She cried out sharply.

"I'm not asking you to retreat. Just want you to stay away for a moment so I can make our lives a lot easier." The Major yelled back.

His quick explanation did little to deter the confounded — and vaguely insulted — look on her face, "But—But!" Annabeth started to protest, "What are you—" However, the woman didn't get too far before she was quickly interrupted by an impatient wave from the ODST.

"Just trust me on this one!" Vaughan's tone became somewhat pleading, " _Please,_ Annabeth!"

The clear insistence in his voice left Annabeth to narrow her eyes in brief but deep thought. At first, the woman had absolutely no idea what was going on nor did she understand what the ODST was trying to imply. That was until her curious gaze fell onto the strange blocky device resting on the Major's shoulder. A pair of widened eyes betrayed her realization when the female warrior began to quickly put two and two together. His urging. The bizarre contraption.

Vaughan was planning something. And Annabeth had a prescient feeling that it was going to be _quite_ the unconventional plan.

"Okay!" Annabeth sighed as she relented eventually, "I'm coming to you. So whatever you have planned, Major, do it quickly!"

Vaughan gave a swift nod in response, and shortly after Annabeth took the opportunity to start her sprint for the ODST. As the two were quite the good distance apart from each other, it became quickly apparent to the woman that closing the gap within such a short time will not be such an easy deed. Not to mention the considerable amount of imps still remaining, who stood in between the pair like a living blockade.

 _Good_ , she thought. Annabeth would have been insulted if the task were any less difficult.

The distance between her and the creatures began to inch shorter but the daunting sight of the horde only encouraged the woman to run _faster,_ not slower. Even as the imps prepared themselves to meet her approach, Annabeth merely responded by raising her sword and continued to push herself onward. The female warrior tensed her body and braced herself for the inevitable confrontation, ignoring the clamor of screeches that bombarded her ears.

Then without a moment to spare, Annabeth let out a brief battle cry before she practically bulldozed into the center of the imp blockade. Many of the imps unfortunate enough to be standing in the woman's path were cut down before they even had the chance to fight back. Left and right, Annabeth blocked and parried the many strikes from imps that _did_ react quickly enough as she retaliated with swift but brutal counterattacks of her own.

Despite the squelches of blood and screams, the woman willed herself to press forward.

Annabeth knew the folly of celebrating an early victory. There was no time to pause and laud, even if their dismembered bodies were a sight quite satisfying to see. The woman had a goal in mind, and she dared not to become idle in her efforts as long as she had the reason to fight a way out of this mess.

 _I can do this,_ She thought in a silent mantra. _I can do this._

While she plowed her way through the creatures, Annabeth quickly scanned her surroundings for anything of good use. The search took quite a while, a mere three seconds in real time, but the woman had managed to single out a rather interesting point of interest. Her eyes fell upon a single imp, lanky and disgusting like its other brethren, but the creature itself wasn't the only thing her attention was focused on. To say the least, her gaze became firmly affixed on...something that was rather eye-catching.

 _'By the Goddess, it's large enough to be an entire continent!'_

She was looking at the largest forehead ever seen in all of Eostian history.

Annabeth would have howled in laughter, had her mind not been preoccupied with a stirring idea. It was a dubious idea at best, she knew admittedly, but it _could_ work if executed correctly. However, she needed to act quickly before the opportunity slipped through her fingers. Slicing an insolent imp into two, the woman twisted her body ever so slightly to change directions before she took off into a mad dash toward her intended target.

Every so often, an imp or two would try to confront the woman and interrupt her journey. Every single one of those encounters would always end the same way: Their mutilated bodies left lying in a pool of their own life fluid.

The forehead imp, judging from the absolute horror in its eyes, seemed to have finally caught on the fact that it was being targeted. And given the fact the creature was pursued by the very same entity easily battering its comrades aside, the imp's growing terror had reached a level that went far beyond the size of its own abnormal facial feature. Feeling the metaphorical bull's eye that was painted on its back, the creature decided to take what it considered to be the best course of action after a quick moment of internal debate.

The imp screamed and started to haul ass.

However, Annabeth was having none of that. The female warrior narrowed her eyes and briefly picked up the pace until she started to push all of her energy into a single area within her dominant leg. Given that a human limb could only handle so much stress, it didn't take very long for all of that stored energy to expel rather quickly. The result was a momentary increase in height as she pushed herself off the ground and flew into the air with a single leap.

The forehead imp didn't even get the chance to retreat before a boot suddenly made a convenient doormat out of its entire face.

Annabeth grinned, ignoring the muffled grunt from underneath her foot. Now that the opportunity presented itself, the woman could finally act on the second part of her impromptu plan. Using her newfound leverage, Annabeth gathered all of her energy once more before she repeated the prior process with a brief but determined cry.

The outcome was how she expected it to be. Launching off the hapless imp, her momentary conviction allowed her body to be propelled even _higher_ in the air than before. As a result, Annabeth began to actually sail _over_ the blockade itself...and leaving her stepping stool to careen violently onto the floor from the sheer force of her kick.

The rest of the imps merely looked up in stunned silence. They knew at this point that it would be a pointless gesture to attack her from their position. And subsequently so, the imps could only do nothing but watch in disbelief as their efforts to separate the woman and her friend were practically rendered null and void before their very eyes.

Speaking of which...

It didn't take long before Annabeth felt the familiar weight of gravity pulling her downward. She prepared herself accordingly, tensing her muscles at the last second until her feet finally made contact with the hard floor. Using the momentum to her advantage, the woman tucked her entire body into a practiced roll as the forward motion carried her into an eventually rough but somewhat graceful landing.

Annabeth settled onto one knee, letting out shaky and deep breaths. Her adrenaline-infused mind refused to process a single thought at first. After a moment of rest, however, the invisible cloud repressing her senses slowly gave way to a sense of realization. Annabeth blinked, comprehending the fact more obvious than her lack of physical modesty.

Her gamble had actually paid off!

The growing smile on her face said it all. Oh, how would she love to see the look on Lady Maia's face once she heard about this. While she silently reveled in the fruits of her labor, Annabeth wasted no time to pick herself off the ground and looked up...

...to meet the faceless gaze of Major Vaughan.

Her strange ally was kneeling on one knee, his equally strange device sitting on his shoulder like an owl perched upon a tree branch. None of the two spoke a word at first, but Annabeth could tell from his slacked body language that he was quite surprised at her display. If it was from her massive amount of luck, or the sheer audacity, to pull off such a stunt, the woman didn't really know.

"That was..." Vaughan paused awkwardly, "...quite the impressive trick you just pulled right there."

Annabeth wanted to smile at the compliment, but the situation demanded that she ignore it and react otherwise, "What are you waiting for?"

The ODST gave a half-hearted shrug, looking at her for a lingering moment before he quietly shifted his focus onto the incoming imps. Taking it as a signal to move out of the way, Annabeth dared not to dillydally and swiftly relocated into a relatively safe spot. Right behind the Major, just as she had been instructed to prior.

Vaughan didn't turn around, but he knew enough to let out an appreciative nod nonetheless, "You wanted to see what I was planning, right?" He asked cooly.

Annabeth looked at the ODST in puzzlement, "Hmm?"

The woman could tell that it was a backhanded question, so she settled to respond with a confounded raise of an eyebrow. Her eyes lingered on the ODST for a moment, almost as if she was asking a silent query of her own. While Annabeth deeply affixed her gaze on Vaughan, the Major himself was staring ahead to inspect the formation of the approaching imps.

He noted quite a few interesting details.

For one, the creatures had switched up their tactics again. Instead of the smaller, more individual groups formed earlier, every one of the remaining imps came together to form a single...wall of some sort. Probably to present themselves as more of a substantial threat than their own sizes can provide. The manner in which they arranged their members was vaguely robust, more organized, and in a strange way reminded Vaughan of the fabled legions once used by the ancient Roman Empire.

Although, history regarded them as warriors worthy of respect and honor. The creatures before him were nothing more than a bunch of clowns.

To further exemplify this fact, they had also committed one of the biggest sins that no modern combatant would _ever_ have the audacity to do in the middle of a battlefield. The imps bunched up _closer_ together, nearly as close as canned sardines, which essentially made themselves more of an easier target than a bigger threat. And since the ODST carried a weapon quite famous for...dealing with such targets, the imps probably won't have enough time to realize the crucial error of their ways.

Or live long enough to react anyhow.

Wasting little time, Vaughan lined up the smart-linked sight projecting onto his HUD. The ODST calculated the precise trajectory and distance in his mind, a task that was done as easily as breathing the air stuffed inside his helmet. He had two M19 missiles in his rocket launcher. Two shots with two uncertain chances of putting an end to this irritating stalemate.

 _Perfect_ , he thought. Two were more than enough for him at the moment.

"Well, Miss Annabeth..." The ODST grinned viciously, wrapping his finger around the trigger.

"...let me just show you how Helljumpers light up their fireworks."

Annabeth raised her eyebrow even higher at his vague remark. What did he mean by fireworks? But before the woman could let out another question, she was suddenly interrupted by a loud, unexpected roar booming through her ears.

 _Fooooooom!_

The sound was the result of the first missile leaving its barrel, launched by Vaughan as he pulled down the trigger. For a weapon that hadn't been fired in nearly three decades, watching the rocket take flight once more became quite a welcoming — and nostalgic — sight for the ODST. The missile flew through the air at hypersonic velocities, unimpeded at first, but eventually, the long distance and the subtle pull of gravity had started to take their toll on the projectile's flight pattern.

As such, altitude decreased steadily, the manipulated trajectory starting to send the missile screaming toward the ground — and toward its intended target: The left side of the imp wall. The imps themselves looked up at the incoming projectile curiously, unaware of the doom that was coming their way. However, even if they somehow could comprehend the danger in time, it was far too late for them.

For the rocket had already struck the floor beneath their feet.

 _Ka-booooooom!_

The following moments did little to disappoint the ODST. The subsequent detonation, created by the HEAT warhead within the missile, completely _vaporized_ the majority of the imps within the blast radius. Those who weren't caught inside the explosion were instead thrown into the air like rag dolls, their bodies whiplashed by the sheer force of the concussive blast.

The remaining imps widened their eyes as they gawked at the devastation, both completely stunned and terrified by the unexpected demise of their comrades. In their own horror, however, the majority of them failed to notice a _second_ missile flying straight toward them from above. Their lack of awareness proved to be a fatal mistake in the end, and those who _did_ react at the last second were condemned just the same when the rocket finally came crashing onto the ground.

The results were just as satisfying as the last.

In a grisly encore of the previous moments, the imps who stood within ground zero were utterly incinerated by the ensuing explosion. Those who were fortunate enough to be standing a little far off would only have their luck stripped away when they were flung aside by the detonation, their bodies shattering onto the floor and the surrounding buildings in twisted and mangled heaps. None of them moved, much less let out a single breath after that. And just as quickly as it had started, it was all over.

Nothing but still silence permeated the air.

* * *

' _Wow, that felt great._ '

Vaughan lowered his SPNKR slowly, letting out a hidden grin as he inspected the body-filled field. Just _one_ of those missiles was powerful enough to punch a hole into a Covenant Wraith, so witnessing a pair of them completely toss the imps around like toys was quite the satisfying scene to behold. Although, his smile faded into a slight grimace once he started to comprehend the extent of the effects caused by his...improvisation.

For one, the two massive craters in the ground. No doubt there will be many questions about the cause of such damage. By the natives, most likely.

 _'And probably from the Captain once he's filled in.'_ Vaughan thought sheepishly, ' _Crap...hopefully I don't get a court martial for this.'_

Shaking his head, the ODST was suddenly alerted to the faint sounds of shuffling behind his back. Vaughan turned his head, feeling nothing but relief when he looked to see Annabeth standing in the same spot, still safe and unharmed. She was unusually quiet, which confused the Major at first considering her more spirited attitude, but only after a closer look at the woman did Vaughan realize what the problem was.

She was shivering.

No, she was _shaking_. Her entire body was trembling as if she had been dipped in cold water, her sword left on the ground beside her feet. Annabeth took a hesitant step back, her gaze filled with a terror that was just as subtle as her physical jittering.

A sort of fear that only belonged in those who have seen the unknown firsthand.

The ODST had seen this fear before, mainly in the eyes of both greenhorn _and_ veteran UNSC personnel during the Harvest campaign, and as well as civilians trying to escape invading Covenant forces during evacuation efforts on Arcadia. This time, however, there were no aliens, no plasma fire, or orbiting warships that threatened to glass the ground beneath their feet. Instead, Vaughan could clearly see that Annabeth was terrified of _him_ — and _only_ him at the moment.

But why? After all, he made it obvious not so long ago that he was on her side. So why was she afraid of him now?

The thought of such a thing saddened the Major, if only briefly.

"Miss Annabeth?" He rose from his kneeling position, "Are you alright?"

Vaughan knew it was a dumb question to begin with, but staying silent wasn't an option he felt the need to consider either, so the ODST decided to take the risk anyway. However, if the woman had even heard his question or not, she didn't really show it. The fear on her face, on the other hand, was just as apparent as ever.

"What...what did you just do?" Annabeth stuttered nervously.

Vaughan cocking his head to the side, "I just saved our asses, that's what." He said confusedly, "Something wrong with that?"

"No-no!" Annabeth conceded, shaking her head fervently. At least she had the good grace to look somewhat thankful, "It was just the manner in which you...dealt with those imps."

She looked down, clenching her hands tightly in a vain attempt to calm her nerves, "So quick, so _sudden_. And it seemed so _easy_ with that strange...power of your's."

As Annabeth explained herself, her eyes slowly lifted themselves from the ground and toward the SPNKR sitting on his shoulder idly. Vaughan followed her tense gaze, puzzled at first, but the following moments of silence were more than enough for the ODST to quickly put two and two together. And when the realization hit him in the back of the head, Vaughan felt the sudden need to do just that physically.

 _'I'm such a fucking idiot.'_

Of course, he had every reason to believe so. He should have seen it coming. Annabeth had witnessed him let loose with an M7 SMG beforehand, but that thing was like a pebble thrower compared to the more heavier stuff in the UNSC's arsenal, much less a _freaking_ rocket launcher.

She must have been completely spooked by the destructive display, which by all means was a normal reaction, considering that he had just wiped those irritating assholes off the face of this planet. After all, people tend to become afraid of things they don't understand. And now he was about _this_ close to souring Annabeth's perception of him, no matter how much goodwill he might have earned, just because he hadn't even done the simple task of taking her reaction into consideration.

' _Damn. I screwed up big time._ ' He glanced at his SPNKR as if he had been caught taking cookies out of a jar.

Oh well, no use crying over spilled milk, all puns aside.

"Look...Annabeth." Vaughan sighed before taking a slow step forward.

That turned out to be a huge mistake on his part when Annabeth quickly reacted to his movements, counteracting with a frantic step backward. She brought her hands up to her chest reflexively, almost as if an angry snake had nearly bitten them off. Her anxious glare immediately halted Vaughan in his tracks.

The ODST decided to take a more careful approach by raising his hands — and the SPNKR — in a friendly manner, "I know that you're a little...nervous about this thing. But trust me, it's just another weapon. Nothing more."

He shook the rocket launcher, emphasizing its current lightness, "And it's empty, too. See?" He explained calmly.

Unfortunately for him, his words didn't seem to assure Annabeth as much as he had hoped. The woman gave a skeptical look but mostly remained silent for a while, probably to contemplate whatever doubts or conjectures that were currently floating in her mind. But hey, at least she was _thinking_ about it, so Vaughan wasn't in much of a position to complain at this point.

" _Just another weapon,_ you said..." Annabeth murmured finally. She let out an unsatisfied frown, "Forgive me if I find that very difficult to believe."

Vaughan was starting to get a little frustrated, "Believe it or not, it's _true_. What, you honestly think I'm going to use it for something else?"

Annabeth had the decency to blush faintly at his accusation, "Well...we _did_ just meet. And for all intents and purposes, you are a stranger to me so I cannot be too certain of your intentions..." She trailed off nervously.

"Annabeth..." Vaughan let out another deep sigh. It didn't much of a genius, nor did it take that long, to figure out what she was trying to imply, "I would _never_ try to intentionally harm you, an ally, much less another human being."

He didn't miss the irony in his statement.

After all, his duty to the UNSC mandated him to do just that once before. The war with the Covenant, however, had changed everything so quickly that it overshadowed the previous conflict with the Insurrection like it was some sort of practice game. Constant battles with the Covies certainly made him more used to fighting aliens than his fellow man after a while, which at this point, Vaughan didn't mind to keep as a distant memory when looking back on the past.

To say the least, the thought of returning to the old routine sent more than just an uncomfortable chill up his back.

"You actually thought I was going to attack you or something? Is that what's going on?" The ODST questioned again.

His voice softened a bit, but there was no mistaking the hurt and slight sadness in his tone. Annabeth appeared to have caught on it rather quickly, for she flinched so noticeably that it seemed like he had socked her in the face before her demeanor settled into that of guilty embarrassment. Despite the change in disposition, she didn't let out a single sound for a while, obviously unsure of what to say after her little guilt trip.

The Major took her silence as a sign to press onward, "Look...whether you like it or not, we're on the same team here. And as of right now, _both_ of us have a common enemy we have to fight. Those 'Orcs' — whatever the hell you call them — and the..."

Vaughan glanced at the dead imps as if he had accidentally stepped on a pile of dog shit, "...'Imps', I don't really like them as much as you do. The enemy of my enemy, right?"

"Y-Yes. You _have_ made that clear beforehand." Annabeth broke her silence with a reluctant nod.

"And I'll continue to make that clear even now. Not because of our current situation..." Vaughan looked back at her with a resolute gaze, "...but because it's a part of my duty."

Annabeth blinked, feeling her uneasiness slowly give way to a mix of confusion and curiosity, "Your duty?" She asked carefully.

"Yeah, my duty." The ODST answered with no less staunch in his voice, "My duty to serve and protect not just my standing superiors, the UNSC, but to the rest of humanity as a whole. That includes you, Annabeth."

Then a mere instant after he had finished, Vaughan did the one thing that surprised not only Annabeth but even himself when he came to realize it. He depolarized his helmet's visor. The silvery blue barrier, which had been a point of frustration for Annabeth when they first met, suddenly vanished from sight, stunning the woman once she saw a face behind the now transparent visor.

A _human_ face, to be exact.

Although faintly distorted by the glass-like material, her eyes were sharp enough to discern most of the exposed facial features without any trouble: Sharp nose, smooth cheeks, and a loose patch of black hair hanging by the right corner of his forehead. Not to mention the slight plethora of battle scars, telltale signs of conflict that marred his otherwise perfect skin. However, what had truly caught her attention were _his_ eyes — or more specifically, the color of them. They were sea green, a vibrant hue that reminded Annabeth so much of the oceans she had once visited long ago.

They were also the most gorgeous pair of eyes she had ever seen in her entire life.

Annabeth didn't admit it out loud, but she found herself utterly fascinated by them. Although, when those very eyes fell upon her own, the woman felt her breathing hitch to a stop once she noticed the sheer emotion in his gaze, which swirled inside like the clouds of a powerful hurricane. And yet, despite the intensity, she could still clearly see it all. The weariness, the passion, as well as the vague lines that lay in between. But most importantly, she once again saw the genuine honesty.

The same one that he had shown her not too long ago.

Blinking at the revelation, Annabeth felt her body start to relax as her breathing returned just as normally. She also hid the faint blush that threatened to cross her own cheeks.

"Do...do you really mean that?" Annabeth blurted out softly.

"Absolutely." Vaughan nodded. If the Major had noticed her little slip-up, he didn't show it, "I swear it on my honor as a Helljumper of the 9th Shock Troops Battalion."

The ODST clenched a hand before he patted his chest plate repeatedly, a simple but yet lighthearted gesture to further emphasize the earnestness in his statement. Despite the little quaint show, however, Annebeth's reaction wasn't quite what he had expected. She looked at him with a quiet gaze at first, blank and emotionless as an ONI agent could get, but eventually her stony facade began to crack from whatever was boiling underneath. Vaughan made a face once he figured out what was happening.

Annabeth was _giggling_ at him.

Or at least, she was attempting to stifle those giggles. Her hands flew up to her mouth, trying in vain to block the sounds of amused squeaks from spilling out into the open air. In the end, Annabeth wasn't fooling either the ODST or even herself as she eventually let it all out, overtaking the tense atmosphere with gentle, almost music-like laughter.

The spectacle only made Vaughan all the more confused at this point, "What?" He asked, "What's so funny?"

"N-nothing!" Annabeth shook her head, a hidden smile behind her hands, "It is just...I believe you."

She took a moment to gather herself before raising her head towards the ODST, "I believe you." She repeated with finality.

Vaughan couldn't help but let out a silent sigh, more than relieved by her response. However, the sudden change in her attitude once again did little to diminish his ever-increasing puzzlement as he tilted his head to the side in a faintly questioning manner.

"Do you really?" He asked gently, "After you've seen what I'm capable of?"

It was a justifiable question, one which seemingly deflated Annabeth into a more resigned mood, "I've...come to realize that if you really had the intention of harming me, we wouldn't be even partaking in this conversation." She replied solemnly.

Then to the ODST's hidden surprise, Annabeth lowered her head into what appeared to be an apologetic bow, "I... _overreacted_ in the most distasteful manner, let my emotions get the better of me. And for that reason, I'm truly sorry, Major Vaughan. Please forgive me for doubting your words."

As Annabeth continued to angle herself into a rather awkward pretzel, Vaughan narrowed his eyes and remained silent at first. He began to study the woman in front of him with an incredulous gaze.

' _What in the hell?_ "

In addition to being a member of the UNSC's finest, the Major was also quite proficient at judging a person's character from first glance. A self-proclaimed skill, of course, but it _had_ proven its merit during his childhood life of political wealth, and during his long journey as a UNSC serviceman up to the point of his three-decade sleep in deep space. He could quite literally tell if a person was screwing with him, or was actually genuine in regards to his or her personal intentions.

In this case with Annabeth, however, the ODST found himself completely stumped.

Vaughan checked again. Her breathing, body language, eye movement, he looked for _anything_ that might be hiding some sort of underlying deception. After a thorough sweep, however, he found...nothing.

Absolutely nothing at all.

The Major frowned, finding himself at a loss. Was she actually being sincere here, genuinely apologetic as he was? Or was this some sort of test, to see if he would take some unexplained bait? Either way, he probably will never know.

Vaughan sighed mirthlessly, the need to pinch his nose growing ever so greater.

"Quit the bowing, Annabeth. You don't need to apologize to me." He said finally.

Annabeth complied by perking her head up, although not without eyeing him with a look of confused hesitation, "But-"

"-But _nothing_." Vaughan interrupted the woman with a raised hand, "I fucked up badly, and you reacted accordingly. In the end, it was no one's fault but mine's, so don't go beating yourself up for something you didn't even do wrong, alright?"

Annabeth widened her eyes, seemingly caught off-guard by his exculpatory response. The guilt on her face, however, was no less diminished as she let out an unsatisfied hum.

"I-I see. But still..." She trailed off uncertainly.

The Major nearly rolled his eyes in exasperation. He began to realize that Annabeth wasn't going to budge from her spot, at least until she got some sort of blame on her part. _Fine_ , he thought decisively. If she wanted her share of the blame, then by all means, he'll be more than happy to oblige to her...simple request.

"Since it seems that we're stuck in an impasse..."

Vaughan blew a resigned puff of air through his nose, "...how about I say we're _both_ a little at fault here and call it even from there."

Taking the initiative, the ODST stuck his hand out in the friendliest manner that he could manage at the moment, "Deal?"

Annabeth merely stared at his hand blankly, _hesitantly_ almost, but whether it was a result of ignorance or bewilderment, the Major couldn't exactly tell. Then slowly but surely, the woman reached out and wrapped her hand around the ODST's own in a meek, but surprisingly firm grip. As the two then promptly shook their grasped hands into a textbook handshake — a gesture Vaughan was both surprised and relieved to see so widespread in the galaxy — the Major didn't miss the way Annabeth seemed to sag ever so slightly, almost as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

"Deal." She smiled faintly.

Vaughan let out a grin of his own...as well as the breath that had been caught in his throat during the brief silence. That was until a thought suddenly crossed his mind, quickly turning his smile into a more solemn frown as the pair eventually released their interlocked hands.

"While I'm glad we've at least come to an agreement," Vaughan paused for a moment, "I hope that this little incident doesn't umm... _sour_ our alliance if you get what I'm saying."

"Hardly."

To his surprise, Annabeth simply shook her head, "In fact, I would beg to differ and say that this interesting 'experience' of ours' more or less... _strengthened_ it. Wouldn't you agree, Major?" She inquired amicably.

Vaughan blinked, remaining silent for a moment until a mirthful chuckle escaped from his mouth, "Well...I haven't thought of it that way, but I guess you're right." Calming himself down, he raised an expectant eyebrow, "So...friends?"

Annabeth nodded and let out a smile, a gesture that was full of genuine warmth this time, "Friends."

With that simple answer, the conflict that had nearly erupted between them was suddenly swept to the side without much thought. And as their friction disappeared, so did the tension in the air, allowing the pair to momentarily enjoy a peaceful, albeit somewhat awkward silence. The reticence was calming, soothing, seemingly stretching on for what seemed like an eternity. In any other time or place, the two would have probably stayed in the tranquil silence forever. However, like all good things, it didn't take long for that peace to come to an eventual end.

Vaughan was given a bitter reminder of this fact when a voice suddenly flooded through his helmet, emanating from Sunray's TEAMCOM channel.

" _Vaughan, do you copy?_ " It was Quinn.

The Major narrowed his eyes and answered immediately, "I read you, Quinn. What's going on?"

" _In a bit of a tight spot at the moment, but we're holding up._ " Quinn let out what sounded like an exasperated click of her tongue, " _Although the rest of the team and I would appreciate it if you can wrap up your little tea party session and hightail it back to our position ASAP._ "

Vaughan couldn't help but chuckle at his second-in-command's dry tone before replying, "Roger that. We're Oscar Mike."

An unamused huff responded back before the COM channel closed with a brief click of static. The Major sighed quietly, a little more than disappointed that his escape from reality had been cut short. He was likewise oblivious of Annabeth's presence as she covertly shuffled herself into a spot beside him, a curious and worried look crossing her face.

"Is something wrong, Major?" Annabeth gave a puzzled tilt of her head.

Vaughan secretly found the gesture to be rather endearing, a thought he didn't bother to share aloud before he shook his head, "No, but the two of us should probably head back. We've sidetracked quite a bit here."

"I concur. We have wasted enough time."

Annabeth grimaced, letting her gaze drift to the dead imp bodies not too far away, "But first, let me go retrieve my sword."

The ODST nodded before he polarized his visor, placing the SPNKR back onto his rucksack's hard points. No use for a weapon that had nary the spare rockets to feed it, after all. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Annabeth didn't appear to be mindful of his actions — nor did she seem bothered by the SPNKR itself anymore — as she instead wandered off, probably in search for her missing weapon somewhere. Vaughan decided to follow her example and looked around with attentive eyes, quietly scouring for his discarded SMG.

It wasn't until a few seconds of aimless roaming and searching later that he unexpectedly found something else of interest on the ground close by: Annabeth's missing longsword.

Sauntering towards it, the ODST picked up the sword by the handle before juggling the bladed weapon in his hand carefully. It was rather light for its size, almost off-puttingly so, but the Major could already feel the balance of speed and power when he gave the longsword an experimental swing. Potent and versatile...perfect for someone of Annabeth's caliber.

Vaughan started to turn around, intent on returning the longsword to its rightful owner, "Hey Annabeth, I got your..." when he suddenly halted in his tracks.

Just a mere few inches away from his person was Annabeth herself, who seemed stunned by the fact she had just narrowly avoided a rather embarrassing collision with the ODST. In her hands was his lost M7 SMG, gently held by the sound suppressor and buttstock. The woman blinked for a moment, staring at the Major with a slightly baffled gaze.

"I have found your weapon, Major." Annabeth eyed the longsword in Vaughan's grip before letting out an amused smirk, "Though it appears that you have found Riptide as well." She giggled, "My, my, such coincidence never ceases to astound me."

Before the ODST could even respond, Annabeth held out the SMG towards him, almost as if it were a peace offering of some sort, "Here, I believe this belongs to you."

"Uhh...thank you."

Vaughan accepted the firearm smoothly, returning the favor by offering her longsword with the handle facing first, "And I believe the good lady wants her sword returned as well?"

"Indeed, I do."

The woman's grey eyes glistened in further amusement as she took the weapon — _Riptide_ , apparently — from him gracefully, all in the while inspecting the blade for anything remotely out of place, "My thanks, Major."

The ODST simply nodded, taking a moment to watch Annabeth literally _cut_ the air around her with the longsword. However, like a rubber band that had been stretched too much, sudden realization practically pulled his ass back into the harsh reality of the current situation. Vaughan let out a somber frown. As much of a...fascinating sight he found her graceful movements to be, it was time for the both of them to get a move on.

The distant sounds of screams and gunfire only served to exemplify his concerns.

"Let's get going, Annabeth." Vaughan spoke up, interrupting the woman mid-swing, "We've kept our comrades waiting long enough."

Annabeth relaxed in response, letting out a similar frown that dropped any pretense of mirth from moments before, "Agreed. Let us make haste then."

The ODST gave a mute nod as he raised the SMG up to his chest plate, a subtle sign showing that he was ready to leave at the moment's notice. Then a moment later, with a silent agreement shared between the two _,_ both Vaughan and Annabeth began to hustle back toward the direction of the Mayor's estate — and hopefully so, back toward the vicinity of their own respective teams. A sense of purpose hung over their heads.

One which both of them hoped will be enough for the rest of the ensuing battle.

* * *

Perhaps it was due to their sense of urgency or by the pace of their run, but Vaughan and Annabeth had made surprisingly good time back to the besieged estate.

As the unlikely pair began to approach said place, the two could already make out the distinct battle lines drawn between the fortified walls and the town that spread just further beyond. Countless bodies of orcs, imps, and even the carcass of some giant monstrosity — a 'Minotaur', Annabeth had called it — lay motionless on the ground. Every single one was embedded with wounds of every kind and degree imaginable.

However, with solemn realization, the pair could see the number of _human_ bodies scattered throughout the area was just as ubiquitous as the monsters.

Annabeth stopped for a moment to take in the disheartening sight and felt nothing but _waves_ of emotion once she recognized a couple of those among the dead. Her hands began to clench into tight fists, a sight Vaughan quickly took notice of when he halted to a stop beside the woman. He vacillated his gaze between Annabeth and some of the bodies, all in the while noting the similar outfits and how most of the dead were mainly women.

Then the realization hit him in the back of the head.

They were Annabeth's comrades. No doubt they were very close friends of her's as well, since Annabeth appeared to be on the verge of breaking down into tears at this point. Letting out a frown, Vaughan couldn't help but feel a bit of sympathy for the grieving woman.

The Major knew exactly what it was like to lose those he had considered close to him. Loss was by no means an easy experience, a fact Vaughan became _well_ acquainted with during his time in the UNSC. Memories of throe and death — afflicted not on him, but on those who stood beside him in battle — still haunted him, even to this day, but he had long since gathered the strength to shove those recollections back into the deepest, darkest corner of his mind.

Such was the price of war, after all.

There will be a time for mourning later. Hopefully, by the end of this conflict, Annabeth will be given more time to grieve for those who were lost today. A luxury Vaughan couldn't — and never will — afford in his life ever again.

"Annabeth." The ODST spoke up gently, "Let's keep moving."

The woman didn't respond at first, instead choosing to keep her gaze glued to the bodies of her former comrades. Releasing a sigh, Vaughan reached out with his free hand to grab onto Annabeth's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

"Annabeth..." He repeated more sternly.

That finally elicited a reaction out of her. Turning around with the speed of a Covenant Scarab, Annabeth gazed at the ODST as she blinked with bewildered, watery eyes.

"...Huh?" She moaned.

Vaughan simply tightened the grip on her shoulder ever so faintly, "Are you going to be alright?" He asked gently.

"Oh, y-yes." Annabeth managed enough energy to give him a weak smile and used her hand to wipe away the tears with despondent poise.

"Do not worry about me. I am just a little...saddened, that is all."

Boy, if _that_ wasn't the biggest understatement he heard in his entire life.

The Major grimaced at her dejected tone, but nonetheless, he accepted the answer without further complaint. After all, Vaughan didn't want to burden her any more than what she had going on right now. Waiting patiently for the woman to collect herself, the ODST gestured with a wave of his hand before the pair resumed the trek towards their destination.

Carefully stepping over the minefield of bodies — or in Annabeth's case, stepping _on_ the non-human corpses with unapologetic thought — it didn't take long for the two to finally reach the beaten walls of the estate. Affixed on the fortifications were a pair of makeshift towers, placed abreast on top of the estate's entrance. Numerous carts and wagons, most tipped over, were spread around the area to provide cover for the defenders, including the 'Hog that brought Vaughan here in the first place.

And by the entrance itself were the rest of Sunray 1-1 and Annabeth's warriors.

Almost immediately, Vaughan's HUD became filled with numerous IFF tags. Behind the passenger side of the Warthog were Quinn and Corporal Turpin, the latter most likely using her drone, Hank, to scout out the area for more victims. Just beside them was Petty Officer Gruss, the team's medic, tending to who appeared to be an injured member of Annabeth's group. And last but not least, tuckered inside one of the towers, was Lance Corporal Sparks. He was Sunray's designated marksman.

As if to emphasize this assessment, a loud 'BANG!' suddenly cracked through the air, startling every non-UNSC personnel within the vicinity. Annabeth jumped at the deafening noise as well, but Vaughan simply traced the vapor trail above him until his magnified gaze fell upon the decapitated body of some wandering orc.

Once the corpse dropped like a sack of potatoes, the ODST looked back to see the lance corporal slowly emerge from his cover, a smoking SRS99 sniper rifle in hand. The sharpshooter waved a two-fingered salute at him, and Vaughan nonchalantly returned the gesture as he shook his head with a quiet sigh.

Sparks' marksman skills were just as _impeccable_ as ever...

Wasting little time, the Major hauled his ass to the protective cover of the Warthog, practically sliding into a spot right next to Quinn. Annabeth trailed behind him silently, only to split off at the last moment so she could kneel beside her wounded comrade and Gruss, a worried look on her face. Vaughan took a moment to glance at the woman before a cough from the side quickly brought his attention back to Quinn. He could feel the stony look practically _ooze_ through her polarized visor.

"You're late." She deadpanned.

Vaughan was already quick to respond, "Sorry about that. I got a bit sidetracked."

" _Sidetracked?_ " Her questioning tone was filled with barely concealed sarcasm, "As in wandering off to God-knows-where, all _alone_ in fact, and mingling with the local women a little too closely, _that_ sidetracked?"

The last bit was followed by Quinn sneaking a peek at Annabeth, who seemed unaware of their ongoing conversation. Following her gaze, the Major simply shrugged his shoulders as if he had been asked about the weather.

"Orders from the Captain, right? I just wanted to see what we're dealing with firsthand, nothing too serious." Vaughan affirmed with a light chuckle.

His words of reassurance, however, didn't appear to satisfy Quinn in the slightest. If anything else, her body language showed that she was rather displeased, almost _angry_ in fact. Low growls comparable to that of a feral lion rumbled from her throat.

" _Nothing too serious?!_ Vaughan _,_ what were you thinking?! Going out there by yourself like that?!" She hissed heatedly, and in her indignation, suddenly did the one thing that admittedly knocked the Major off his feet.

Dropping her M6S magnum, Quinn ripped off her helmet to reveal a _very_ beautiful face of Cherokee descent. Along with the choppy chocolate hair and perfect skin, her eyes were arguably the main point of her whole allure: They were kaleidoscopic, a rare phenomenon that can mesmerize even the most disenchanted with their exotic beauty. Directed at the target of her ire, however, those very same eyes can appear unforgivably chilling — and outright _terrifying_ in most cases.

That was where the ODST found himself, unfortunately.

"Vaughan." Quinn frowned and pointed to herself, "Look at me."

The Major did as he was told without complaint. After all, most found themselves unable to turn away from that face once it held a solid grip on one's gaze. Guess that was why she was nicknamed 'The Tech Beauty' by so many others, Vaughan mused.

"Do you see this face?" Quinn inquired, not even giving her superior the opportunity to respond, "Look at it again. Look at my face closely, and I fucking _dare_ you to say there isn't a single inkling of concern on it!"

Despite letting out what was essentially a furious tirade, Vaughan could clearly tell Quinn wasn't fooling around. Hidden beneath her vehement facade was an array of emotions, each different but yet so similar to one another: Anger, anxiety, relief, and...worry? The last one sent him nearly reeling in realization. This wasn't her usual, playful scolding.

She was actually worried about him.

' _Well, no freaking wonder she's so pissed off_.' Vaughan thought, grimacing.

His second-in-command seemed to be finally placated by his silence, if her softened features were any indication.

"Look...Vaughan, I'm sorry if I'm stepping out of line here, and I know we haven't been on the field in a while." Quinn murmured, dropping her gaze to the floor, "But that doesn't give you an excuse to be so goddamn _reckless!_ What would've happened if you got yourself hurt, much less _killed,_ huh? _What would've happened then_?!"

Once she was finished, Quinn let out a shaky sigh through her teeth, "Just...don't that ever again, alright? I was worried. The rest of the team was worried. If you're going to pull something so risky and stupid, at least let us know beforehand."

Then to the Major's bewilderment, Quinn looked up and gave him a small smile, "After all, we can't be a team if there's no one to lead us, right?" She inquired.

"Amen to that." Turpin's inattentive voice droned from the side, catching both of their attention for a moment.

Realizing Quinn was not alone in her sentiments, Vaughan's entire demeanor seemed to shift into that of utter defeat. Once again, his inconsiderate behavior had come back to bite him in the ass, a fact the ODST was no longer blind to. Not only did it nearly cost him Annabeth's trust a while back, but it was now putting him in deep water with his team, people who the Major personally considered to be his true family. All because he was too fucking irresponsible enough to have some tact.

And now it was time for him to face the music.

"You're right, Quinn." The resignation in his tone was palpable.

"I'm sorry, for worrying you and the team. Guess this whole First Contact BS made me a little excited to the point where I became...careless." He spat out that last bit as if he had swallowed an entire MRE, "Trust me, that's a mistake I won't be making ever again."

Quinn raised a skeptical eyebrow, "You sure about that?" She asked softly.

Vaughan nodded mutely, a gesture Quinn noted to be filled with absolute sincerity. Narrowing her eyes, the female ODST gazed at her superior like she was putting him underneath a microscope. She scrutinized the Major for what seemed to be an eternity before releasing a heavy sigh of content.

"Well...I'm glad I managed to get through that thick head of your's." Quinn grumbled, "And just in time, too."

The Major tilted his head in confusion, "What do you mean by that?"

Quinn's shoulders sagged visibly in response, but she appeared at least relieved by the subject change, "Just before you arrived, we were about a hair closer to getting our asses handed to us. Only can do so much with weapons and ammo issued for a recon mission, I suppose." She said tiredly.

"The bodies out there disagree." Vaughan snarked, remembering the field of corpses he encountered with Annabeth.

Quinn snorted, but her expression and tone remained mirthless, "Those things weren't exactly the sharpest tools in the shed. Don't even come close to the Covenant, but they definitely got numbers. More than enough to practically throw at our faces."

"No kidding." His experience with the imps came into mind, and Vaughan felt no less gratification to know that he was the cause of their demise, "What changed?"

"They retreated." Quinn shrugged half-heartedly, probably just as confused as he was, "Don't really know why, but they just decided to pack up and ditch the fight."

She shook her head somberly, "Though not without leaving our new friends with quite a bloody nose, I'm afraid."

As if the universe itself was trying to assert Quinn's claim, the two were suddenly alerted to a series of distressed mewls coming from the side. Vaughan shifted his attention to the wounded woman under Gruss's care and grimaced a bit once he fully took in the...gruesome extent of her injury.

It wasn't pretty, to say the least.

The female warrior had a freaking arrow lodged in her throat, and by some grace from God, she was _still_ alive. Judging from her squirming, however, the raven-haired woman was probably regarding her situation as lightly as a person on the receiving end of a firing squad. She looked afraid, justifiably so, but the calming gestures from Gruss, supplemented by Annabeth's comforting words, seem to be more or less doing the trick.

"Shh...it's going to be okay, Claire." Annabeth cooed soothingly, "Just relax. You're going to live today, I promise."

'Claire' was letting out tears at this point, most likely from the pain, but she nodded nonetheless as Gruss pulled out a cylindric object from her rucksack: a biofoam canister. To pull out the arrow would be a death sentence, the medic realized, so instead Gruss decided to abide by her second option when she gently pressed the nozzle against the entry point and proceeded to apply the foam onto the wound with delicate care.

The reaction was immediate.

Since biofoam application was described to be initially painful, it came as no surprise for the observing UNSC personnel to see Claire suddenly writhe and whimper in a fitful manner, agony readily apparent on her face. Watching her comrade in such distress, however, provoked Annabeth to round onto the medic with an angry look.

"What are you—"

She didn't get a chance to continue before Gruss interrupted her with a raised hand.

"Watch." The corpsman grunted, calmly pointing to Claire and the foam settling on her wound.

Left without much of a choice, Annabeth reluctantly complied and settled to watch her squirming friend anxiously. She waited with tense posture, desperately holding back the urge to rip off the substance that seemingly created even more pain for Claire. However, it didn't take much longer until Annabeth found herself completely shocked by what happened next.

After a few moments of settling in, the biofoam quickly became semi-rigid, sealing the area around the arrow and cutting off the river of blood that traveled down her neck. Claire's subsequent reaction was probably what surprised Annabeth the most. As the foam hardened, the agonized look on her face was suddenly replaced with that of absolute relief. An alleviated sigh escaped her damaged throat as Claire seemingly _melted_ onto the metal surface of the 'Hog, like ice cream left out on a sunny day.

Annabeth could only watch in fascination when Gruss's voice caught her attention.

"Temporary." The medic explained bluntly, "Needs proper treatment later."

Annabeth frowned as she processed the corpsman's words, but nevertheless let out a grateful "Thank you" before she scooted closer to Claire, readjusting her friend's body into a more comfortable position. Setting down the biofoam canister, Gruss eyed the women one last cautious time until she turned her head to quietly meet the gaze of her two teammates.

"You've been busy, Doc." Vaughan said simply, "Not your first patient, I take it?"

Gruss shook her head in response, sadly pointing a thumb towards the interior of the estate — or more precisely, towards the crowd of wounded people huddling up by the entrance. Civilians, town's militia, and even a few from Annabeth's group. All of them laid on sheets and tarps spread across the ground, sulking and moaning from their respective injuries.

The women were arguably far worse.

Vaughan could see that many, if not all, of them had pathetic little shreds of clothing to protect their modesty while some were just _completely_ naked from head to toe, except for the blankets embracing their bare shoulders. However, what was probably the most off-putting aspect of the women were their eerily glazed eyes, blank gazes he recognized quickly as the infamous thousand yard stare. And if he could correctly guess from the uncleaned remains of what appeared to be semen left on their bodies, Vaughan didn't even need to bet in his money to know _exactly_ what had happened to them.

Grimacing in disgust, the Major sent all of them a pitying look before swiftly returning his attention to Sunray's medic.

"You've done all you could, Gruss. Take a break for now." Vaughan sighed.

Gruss stiffened hesitantly, a reaction that was probably as subtle as her personality, but nonetheless nodded as if she had just received an order before moving about to gather her discarded medical supplies. Once the corpsman was left to her own devices, Vaughan felt his shoulders slumping from the weight of everything that had just transpired. On the other hand, his 'unbelievable BS' list grew three sizes today.

First medieval-era humans, including women in skimpy-ass attire, and now humanoid monsters that pillaged and raped? All of whom appearing as if sprung from some bootleg fantasy novel? What else was going to be shoved onto his damn plate, freaking _Elves_? The Major shook his head tiredly, shifting his gaze to see that Quinn was just about as energetic as he was at the moment.

Vaughan couldn't blame her, in all honesty.

"Well...can't really say this mission _wasn't_ the most eventful." He spoke up, attempting to ease the mood a bit, "Hopefully, things don't get any worse from here on out."

It was too late for the Major to realize how very and utterly _wrong_ he was. As soon as those words left his mouth, the ever powerful fate had decided to prove him wrong once again by retaliating with a universal rule of reality: Don't jinx yourself. Vaughan was given a punitive reminder of this fact when Turnip suddenly called out for him and Quinn.

"Uhh... _guys_." The urgency in her voice was painfully apparent, "Might wanna backtrack on what you said earlier and check this out."

At that moment, Vaughan found himself thankful for his helmet's visor. The Major didn't dare to show how truly abashed he was when Quinn's smug stare fell onto him intently.

"You were saying?" She smiled sweetly.

Vaughan had no choice but to concede at this point.

Shaking his head in utter resignation, he sighed before gesturing for her to join with him. Quinn rolled her eyes amusedly but complied quietly as she and the Major scooted their way closer to the expectant drone operator. Once the two were practically within her personal space, Turnip held out her personal TACPAD for everyone to see clearly. The corporal then proceeded to display what appeared to be a live video feed from Hank's camera, transmitted data in the form of a tactical bird's eye view of the entire village.

As soon as their eyes fell onto the screen, both Vaughan and Quinn felt their stomachs drop to the floor.

"Holy hell..."

If there was one word to describe exactly what the ODSTs saw on the feed, it would be an _army._ Masses of monsters started to trickle into an open staging area from all around the settlement, assembling in such a way that it almost reminded Vaughan of a Covenant invasion. And there was just _a lot_ of them, numbering more than two _thousand_ at least, most of whom the Major recognized from his earlier arrival: Orcs, imps, and a small group of minotaurs. Even a couple of new faces. However, unlike the last time he had seen them, these creatures were very much alive and standing.

And they looked hungry for blood.

Emphasizing their bloodlust were the roars and jeers that can be heard from not just the TACPAD itself, but even from the far distance. And when the clamoring reached the ears of those in and out of the estate, every person of non-UNSC origin froze in their tracks. It was like someone had paused time. No one moved, no one _dared_ to try, unwilling to make so much as a squeak in the utter silence. Even the wounded and those victim of the monsters' lust partook in the stillness, all too horrified to muster any more indication of their pain and suffering. The silence went on for a while...

...then the panic started to kick in.

As if someone had detonated a flashbang, the commotion that erupted from the estate was sudden and deafening. Cries of unrest and terror began to create a strange symphony of sort, clamoring that was just as loud as the one that had startled them in the first place. Civilians, as well as some soldiers with nary the will to fight, scrambled in a futile effort to run or hide while those unable to move at all just remained in their spots, quietly accepting their impending fate. The pandemonium was absolutely staggering.

And the ODSTs of Sunray could do nothing but watch in solemn silence.

"So the creatures weren't retreating at all." Quinn muttered, her tone filling with realization, "They were pulling back to regroup..."

"...for one final assault." Vaughan finished with a shake of his head, "This is bad, _really_ bad."

Quinn couldn't help but release a mirthless snort, "Understatement of the century." She murmured, looking at her superior uncertainly, "So what's the game plan then, Vaughan?"

Most likely to contemplate her question, the Major didn't let out a single word for what seemed like an eternity before heaving a weary sigh, "At this point, there's only one thing that can be done: We dig in and continue to defend this place as long as possible."

As soon as he had finished his little decree, the shift in the air became quite apparent. Quinn, along with both Turnip and Gruss for a moment, began to stare at Vaughan as if he had told her that she only had a week to live. Shock and disbelief seeped from their stiffened stances.

"You can't be serious." Quinn breathed.

Her eyes were widened with unrestrained incredulity, "Vaughan, there's _no_ way we'll be able to hold off those things with just the five of us, let alone with the...condition our local friends are in right now. "

The warrant officer's words were blunt, mercilessly so, but they were no less the truth than those present wanted to admit. Quinn was right. As much pride the entirety of Sunray took for themselves as the best of the best, they were still only _five_ people, badly outnumbered by a four hundred to one odd. Their exhausted munitions were barely enough to hold off the first incursion, after all.

And that was not to mention the locals, mainly the civilians and militia, either. Their morale was probably just as bad as the half-baked defenses they tried to cook up. To say the least, none of them will be of any help, except for maybe Annabeth and her remaining entourage, once the coming storm came knocking on their proverbial doorstep. It'll be a literal bloodbath. If _those_ weren't any clues of the dicey situation they were in, then Vaughan might as well become a politician at this point.

Still, the Major held a glimmer of hope inside of him.

"Quinn, remember the Covenant? Those parasitic aliens? The flying robots?"

Stopping for a moment, Vaughan held back his amusement once realizing that he practically experienced every stereotypical sci-fi archetype known to man, "If we've managed to survive through all _that_ crap, outgunned and outnumbered, then we certainly can survive a bunch of primitive freaks that can't duck down to save their own asses."

Quinn sighed in response, shaking her head somberly, "Wish I could share your optimism, Vaughan...but in the past, we've at least had the support of entire _companies_." She retorted.

"Marines, Hellbringers, Warthogs, _Scorpions_." The warrant officer paused for emphasis, "And now? We have none of that except for recon-issued firepower and an ammo supply that's dwindling faster than we can even _blink_."

She pointed to the distance, "We'll be swarmed from just their sheer numbers alone by the time our guns run completely dry, no matter how primitive those things are. Not only that, but the one other UNSC team that can possibly support us is probably on the other side of this fucking place, most likely just as preoccupied as we are at the moment."

Once she was done with her little rant, the female ODST slumped against the side of the 'Hog in exhausted resignation, "I'm sorry, Vaughan, but unless you're packing a Fury nuke in your pocket, then there's no way we'll be able to pull this off. Not without some sort of help, at least." She finished wearily.

As Quinn stared at him tiredly, Vaughan was stunned into silence once more. Then again, however, he wasn't too surprised. In almost every situation, he had no rebuttal that his second-in-command couldn't beat down.

And as such, the harsh reality of her words made the Major want to grimace.

There was no other way around it: They _had_ to get help. But where, and most importantly, _how_? Captain Cutter made it specifically clear that no additional support will arrive until their task was completed, and the only other UNSC team present in the area was probably having the time of their lives right now, doing God-knows-what in the heat of this whole conflict. Then Vaughan felt his breathing hitch as a striking thought crossed his mind.

Where was Red Team, anyway?

The Major didn't know at that moment, but the answer to his question was about to reveal itself in the form of a...familiar sound. A faintly _mechanical_ one at that. Growing louder with each passing second, the feral-like noise caught the attention of those willing to listen closely, both UNSC and not. While the attentive locals seemed confused and rather spooked by the unusual phenomenon, if they weren't terrified enough already, the members of Sunray 1-1 were not so alarmed.

They already knew what it was.

Vaughan, in particular, quickly recognized the roaring as the byproduct of a functioning hydrogen engine. Or more specifically, from a running M12 Warthog. As the Major attempted to fit all of the puzzle pieces together, he felt his eyes widening once a shot of realization flowed through his veins like a round fired from a MAC gun. Drops of hope began to mix with the adrenaline.

There was only one other team that used a Warthog besides his own.

" _Hey, boss._ " Sparks's voice came through the TEAMCOM channel, " _I got a visual on a 'Hog speeding towards our position...and what looks like a convoy of locals tailing behind it. All civilians and women on_ _horseback. How copy?"_

As if to assert the sharpshooter's assessment, a pair of IFF tags suddenly popped up on Vaughan's HUD. Without pause, the Major proceeded to identify the transponder signals out of apprehensive curiosity.

S-092 and S-130.

' _No freaking way._ ' He thought to himself.

Once his mind registered the tags, as well as remembering _who_ they belonged to, the hope within his chest immediately swelled ten-fold. Turning to his teammates, a hidden grin on his face, Vaughan had no way to prevent the sheer delight and excitement from escaping his voice.

"Heads up, Helljumpers...the Spartans are here!"

Like a tea kettle whistling on the stove, the faint roaring that grew ever so louder became absolutely _monstrous_ as the Spartan-commandeered Warthog made its presence known, speedily emerging from the corner of a building. After the vehicle came the convoy of civilians Sparks had mentioned, every one of them hauling ass toward the estate with nervous gait. And as the sharpshooter had described, they were surrounded by a circular barrier of female riders on horseback, their eyes watching for signs of trouble like hawks.

The mixed nature of the convoy raised quite a few eyebrows, but the ODSTs weren't exactly in much of a position to judge anyway.

Without missing a beat, Vaughan stood up from his cover and walked over to meet the advancing Warthog. As he stopped, so did the vehicle, and mutely exiting from their respective seats were the members of Spartan Red Team. Their olive-armored bodies moved with such fluid stride, it made them appear almost graceful as the giants silently approached the Major, weapons in hand. From the beaten up estate to the equally beaten up people defending it, the Spartans took in everything with mechanical-like gazes before Vaughan's voice brought their full attention onto him.

"Nice to have you here, Spartans..."

The Major tilted his head in bewilderment, "...uhh, what happened to your third guy?"

The Spartan with the red markings, Jerome, merely nodded in response, "He's busy." He clarified, "What's the situation, sir?"

Before the ODST could respond, they were quickly interrupted by someone shouting ' _Calypso_!' from the side. Both of them turned to see a slightly shaken Annabeth making a mad dash towards the convoy — or more precisely, to the female riders that made up the protective detail — as if the Devil himself was on her heels. A beautiful woman with braided caramel hair, presumably Calypso, dismounted from her steed and sprinted as well before she and Annabeth eventually collided into an intimate embrace.

Their little reunion was something that Vaughan couldn't pick up on well, but he was able to hear words like 'Where is Lady Maia?' and 'Strangers', the latter followed up by Calypso sending a quick glance of disdain towards his direction. My, oh my, could he _smell_ the distrust coming from her. Shaking his head, the Major decided to leave them be for now as he shifted his attention back to Red Team.

"Not good, to say the least." Vaughan sighed, "Managed to hold this place a while back, but we're not exactly in good shape to fight another battle, much less with help from these folks."

For the next minute, the ODST went into specific detail about what had transpired over the past hour. From his little escapade with Annabeth to Sunray's pyrrhic defense of the estate prior to his arrival, every single word that came out of his mouth was absorbed by the Spartans like water to a sponge. And once Vaughan wrapped up his report, the two giants remained silent and looked at each other as if they were communicating in telepathy. He had no doubt about such a possibility, but as much as the ODST wanted to know, he knew not to try anyway.

To figure out the inner workings of a Spartan would be like trying to fight an Elite hand-to-hand.

"I see." Jerome simply stated after a moment of reticence, "How many of those creatures are we expecting to arrive here?"

Vaughan shook his head, "Hundreds, probably more than a few thousands, at least." He replied bitterly, "An _army's_ worth of those primitive fucks, ready to throw themselves into literal fire of bullets even if it means getting to us and these people."

To emphasize his point, the Major thumbed behind him, directing Red Team to the general direction of the estate.

Silently, the two Spartans followed to where he had indicated until their hidden gazes fell onto the civilians and wounded. Well, at least onto those who had actually stayed where they were. People, whether it would be families or complete strangers, huddled up together in resigned embraces, muttering inaudible whispers to each other while those of selfless nature attempted to comfort the women who had the unfortunate luck of being forced upon. It was a depressing sight, to say the least.

However, there were some who stared at Red Team unabashedly. Most of their eyes were filled with a mix of curiosity and unease, and it wasn't exactly surprising for the Spartans to see a few of them just outright _terrified._ But what _was_ surprising for Red Team were the individuals on the other side of the spectrum. Instead of sharing the more pessimistic sentiments of their fellows, these people held a more...positive attitude towards the armored giants. As they stared at the Spartans, their eyes became filled with awe, wonder, relief, and...hope. A flicker of hope for not just themselves, but for the armored strangers as well.

The same ones who can possibly help them endure the coming storm.

"If what you said is true, sir..."

Jerome shifted his gaze to the town beyond, "...then we just have to even the playing field a bit."

Discarding the MA5B he had in hand, the Spartan shot a glance at his partner and proceeded to carefully remove a rectangular item from his armor's back. A moment later, every UNSC personnel within the vicinity widened their eyes in shock once the object in question revealed itself to be a blow pack. No doubt it was filled to the brim with C-12 charges.

"Help me set these up, Alice." Jerome ordered.

In response, Alice hefted her own blow pack and nodded diligently, "On it."

As the Spartan moved about to carry out her task, Jerome was about to follow when an awkward cough from the side stopped him in his tracks. The leader of Red Team turned to see Vaughan, along with the rest of his team, staring at him with no hidden reservations in his stance. Even Calypso and Annabeth, who were most likely finished with their conversation, seemed just as confused as Sunray when they stepped into a quiet spot beside the ODSTs.

There was a mix of interest and bewilderment in the air.

"Uhh...Spartan, you mind telling us what you're planning to do?" The Major asked, voicing the question in everyone's mind.

For a moment, Jerome didn't let out a word. Anticipation clawed at the insides of those observing, like rats in a cage, but nonetheless, they could do nothing but watch on intently with bated breath. Fortunately for them, however, their patience became eventually well rewarded once the Spartan broke the unforgiving silence.

"Sir..." Jerome said finally.

His tone was cool and level, the golden faceplate of his helmet seemingly gleaming from the overhead sunlight.

"...finishing this fight."

That sent a shivering chill up a few spines.

* * *

"—dy Celestine..."

"...Lady Cel—"

"...Lady Celestine!"

Celestine Lucross nearly yelped aloud, jolting awake in the confines of her seat.

As the High Elf blinked tiredly in confusion, she covered her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle a yawn. Once she managed to collect herself, Celestine began to look around in a weary attempt to ascertain her surroundings.

The Goddess Reborn found herself currently seated at the head of the Council table, the rest of the room taken up by a gathered assembly of Ken's highest echelon. Generals, merchants, nobles, priests, all were evenly spaced around the circular table. Each of them, as well as the subordinates who served under their leadership, had provided the necessary backbone that the alliance needed for their war against the forces of Garan. Years of conflict and duty weighed heavily on the shoulders of those present, but they knew that none of their troubles will ever take priority over a meeting beckoned by their Goddess.

Their current attendance and attentive eyes indicated as much.

To the left of Celestine, sitting as poised and vigilant as ever, was the commanding officer of the famed Dawn Templars, Claudia Levantine. To say that Celestine held the woman dear in her heart would have been a terrible understatement.

In addition to her role as the second-in-command of the entire Seven Shield Alliance, Claudia was also one of the very few people in this world that the High Elf would ever call a close friend. The frequent moments of stress that weighed on Celestine usually lead the knight to forgo her authoritative visage in favor of a more maternal one, often comforting the Goddess Reborn like a mother would to her daughter whenever a passing vision or task became too much to handle.

And in hard times such as these, Celestine couldn't ask for a more reassuring presence than Claudia herself.

Sweeping her gaze across the room, the High Elf couldn't help but note how strangely... _quiet_ it was. No exchanges of trade and battle were shared between the various attendees, which Celestine found quite abnormal when considering the nature of these meetings. The air, usually filled with boisterous debate, was stuffed with such an uncomfortable silence that not even a mouse would dare let out a peep. Slightly off-put, the Goddess Reborn stared to blink from not just wariness but puzzlement as well.

Was there something wrong?

Then Celestine quickly noticed the looks of concern on their faces. Or more specifically, the looks of concern that were all directed towards _her._ Frowning at the sudden attention she was receiving, the High Elf tilted her head in a questioning manner before craning her neck toward Claudia for answers. To her surprise, the face she had turned to greet held the same countenance as those currently lingering onto her with steady regard.

Except on Claudia's features, however, the worry seemed far... _far_ more intense than usual.

"Are you feeling ill, my Lady?" The unease in the Dawn Templar's voice was equally as apparent.

Celestine blinked again, an action she found strangely more demanding than usual, "N-no, Claudia. Why do you—"

She trailed off, her tongue failing her when she was interrupted by the returning urge to yawn once more.

The High Elf obliged on impulse, the feeling of exhaustion overwhelming her mind and senses for a moment. However, that was when, in a stunning rush of speed that caught even her off-guard, Celestine felt all of the remaining energy with her body suddenly...vacate, as if siphoned from some outside force. It was a strange feeling, one which the Goddess Reborn didn't bother to dwell on just as she began to fall forward like a puppet detached from its string.

Fortunately for the barely conscious High Elf, Claudia had reacted just quickly enough to spot her Goddess in harm's way.

With a speed that spoke years of conditioning, the knight shot out of her chair and caught Celestine by the shoulders, saving the High Elf from an unpleasant collision with the table. The sudden spurt of action sparked an uproar of murmurs from the meeting's attendees, some standing up from their seats in shock while others glanced at their fellows with nervous stares. Ignoring the incessant clamors, the Dawn Templar proceeded to gently ease Celestine back into her seat. And once the High Elf was situated, Claudia made sure to keep her friend supported by maintaining a hand firmly on the Goddess Reborn's bare shoulder.

"My Lady!" She cupped her free hand onto the High Elf's cheek, her tone abundant with motherly concern, "Are you alright?!"

Celestine groaned softly and opened her eyes, only to narrow them as if the sun was directly in her face, "Claudia? Wh...what happened?" She moaned.

"You...fainted." Claudia pursed her lips hesitantly, "Just now, you would have kissed the marble of the table, had I not caught you at the last moment."

Massaging her temple, the High Elf shifted her drowsy gaze towards the knight in a mix of alarm and disbelief, "I...fainted?"

A reluctant nod answered her query, provoking Celestine to let out a delicate mewl of dismay. The Goddess Reborn hadn't intended to burden her friend, or anyone else for that matter, with such undue worry. And subsequently so, she couldn't but feel an enormous amount of guilt for starting such a sudden commotion.

This was an error that required definite penance.

So with tired but gentle care, the High Elf reached up to remove Claudia's touch from her cheek before eyeing the Dawn Templar with an apologetic look. Claudia appeared as if she was about to protest, but her attempts were quickly shot down once the Goddess Reborn shook her head, a faintly warm smile following shortly after. With her friend reasonably pacified, Celestine dropped the amiability from her features as she shifted her attention to the stares of those residing within the room. Her emerald green eyes met their own with calming intensity.

"Apologies, my friends."

She spoke up serenely. Her voice immediately disrupted any ongoing conversations, "I was affected once again by my lack of...proper sleep."

'Lack of proper sleep' would be putting it lightly, to say the least.

Underneath her regal and beautiful appearance, a notion quite common throughout Eostia, there was an obvious sense of fatigue that even those with dull senses could detect it. Garbed in robes that revealed just enough smooth skin to admire even the querulous, her body began to tremble ever so subtly as if she had stepped into a pool of cold water. Distinctively elven ears drooped towards the floor in a listless manner, dark bags trailing under her eyes like some distorted depictions of a crescent moon.

All in all, Celestine had seen better days.

" _Once again?_ " One of the attendees, Archbishop Grishom, interjected cautiously, "Would you care to elaborate, my Goddess?"

Much like the rest of the room, there was a touch of noticeable concern in his voice, a sentiment quite out of character for the elder clergyman.

It wasn't difficult for those who shared a distaste for Grishom to know exactly why. The 'esteemed' and 'well-respected' Archbishop had a reputation that of a petty tyrant, amongst other negative traits, often hoarding wealth and power in a manner rather unbefitting for a priest, much less one who was leading a church of worship in the High Elf's name. To that end, there was little to be said about his arrogance or lack of moral principles, but Celestine herself couldn't help but find this one exception to be a relieving breath of fresh air.

If only those who went down a similar path would follow such example.

"I'm afraid my visions are responsible for my restlessness, Archbishop."

Celestine lowered her gaze as if in shame, releasing a sigh that spoke of utter exhaustion, "As of recently, they have come in...periodic lapses."

The High Elf bit the bottom of her lip, "Every night, these visions would enter my dreams with vivid intensity, each showing me glimpses of strange..." She paused for the right word.

"... _events_. Whether they're in the past, present, or even the future, I cannot tell."

Once her words were absorbed by everyone within the room, they were left completely stunned.

All...except for Claudia, however. The Dawn Templar frowned, well aware of exactly _what_ her Goddess was referring to. After all, she had been personally present to witness the aftermath of these incidents. Ever since that particular vision nights before, the knight could do nothing but watch Celestine break down into tears after she awoke from her slumbers in cold sweat, huddling into a blanket-covered ball as if there was a monster hiding in the shadows.

It was even worse for Claudia when the High Elf absolutely _refused_ to recount her experiences, of the lucid horrors that lurked within her dreams. These reoccurring bouts of insomnia became common to the point where the Dawn Templar had to remain awake some nights, just so she could keep a close eye on her troubled friend. But even then, just the mere thought of these visions, of what her Goddess had to endure, only brought more distress and sadness to Claudia's heart. _No_ , these were not simple visions.

They were nothing more than absolute _nightmares._

"Then if it is no problem, your Holiness."

Another attendee, Sir Mikhail Pantielle, took the initiative by raising his voice. The knight's stone-like visage was considerably softened as he stared at the Goddess Reborn with a rare respect only very few people deserved.

"Can you throughly describe what happens in your visi—"

" _NO!_ "

Sir Mikhail, as well as everyone else in the room, was caught off-guard when Celestine nearly screamed aloud, who slammed her hands against the table hard enough to _tremble_ the sturdy marble.

Within a matter of seconds, all of the exhaustion within the Goddess Reborn had disappeared completely. Gone was the familiar, serene warmth in her eyes, and left in its wake was a visceral glint that appeared more reminiscent of a cornered _animal_. Quivering lips curled ever so slightly to reveal bared teeth, her throat releasing faint but vicious growls as if it were by pure instinct. For what seemed to be an eternity, Celestine held the feral snarl on her face until she froze like a statue, dropping her ferocious demeanor as soon as it had appeared.

Hot tears filled the High Elf's eyes as realization and horror slowly took over her features.

"I-I'm so sorry..."

Collapsing into her seat, Celestine stared at her slightly bruised palms and proceeded to mutter frantically, "I'm so sorry...please forgive me...please forgive..."

Either out of shock or respect for their Goddess, the entirety of the meeting's attendees chose to do nothing but observe as Claudia knelt by the High Elf's side, alarm and worry apparent on her countenance. The Dawn Templar took Celestine's hands with one of her own, whispering words of comfort while she used her free hand to rub the High Elf's back with gentle care. Whether it was from her ministrations or motherly coos, it didn't really matter to Claudia once she noticed her friend was starting to calm down a bit. Celestine gazed up at the Dawn Templar with delicate whimpers, tightening her grip on the knight's hand as if it were a lifeline.

That only made Claudia want to curse at these visions even more.

While the two continued to indulge in their little intimate moment, Sir Mikhail kept his mouth shut and merely watched with everyone else. Judging from the grimace on his face, however, it seemed as if the knight was holding himself responsible for what had just transpired. His next words made that more than clear.

"I...rescind my previous question. Apologies for my misconduct." He spoke up hesitantly, catching the attention of both women, "But perhaps, if I'm not stepping out of line again, it would be wise for her Holiness to get some more...proper rest?"

In response, Celestine wiped her eyes and shook her head jadedly, "R-right now? No...I shouldn't—"

"I'm afraid Sir Mikhail is right, Lady Celestine."

Claudia interjected, interrupting the High Elf with a stern frown, "These lapses of insomnia have burdened you for _far_ too long. Visions be damned, at least _try_ to earn some sleep, I beg of you."

Celestine appeared as if she was about to protest, "B-but...what about the meeting?" However, like a newborn bird, her challenge fell towards the ground before it could even take flight.

"I'll take over in your stead, milady. You won't have to worry about a thing." Claudia sent a reassuring smile, "In the meantime, I'll have my guards escort you to your chambers so you can get properly rested."

For a moment, Celestine didn't seem so persuaded by her friend's assurance. She made that more than evident by pursing her lips as she alternated between Claudia and the rest of the room with a gaze staunchly conveying her tired uncertainty. The silence within the council hall persisted for what seemed like hours until the High Elf eventually gave up, who relaxed her shoulders in utter resignation.

"Okay...I'll go." Celestine murmured quietly, earning a pleased look from the Dawn Templar.

With Claudia's help, the Goddess Reborn stood up from her seat before directing her attention towards the observant attendees, "I'll be taking my leave. Apologies for the inconvenience, my friends." She bowed humbly.

Everyone remained silent, either out of concern or further respect, but they nonetheless returned the gesture to show their lack of displeasure from the disruption.

As the High Elf let out a sigh of relief, Claudia looked behind her and silently nodded to the two guards standing abreast by the room's doorway. At their superior's behest, the Dawn Templars approached wordlessly, ready to escort their Goddess with nary a complaint. Then without any pomp or circumstance, Celestine sent one final glance at her friend before shuffling out of the room with the guards in tow. Claudia merely watched the retreating High Elf, her mind racing with thoughts and questions as a worried frown settled on her features.

Unbeknownst to her, and everyone else within the council hall, there was an unforeseen spectator in their midsts.

Their ignorance was not without reason, however, for its presence wasn't truly _there_ in a superficial sense. And yet, it _was_ somehow, free to do whatever it pleased as the entity finished its observation of the attendees and their quaint little meeting. The observer's thought process began to overflow with what it had just witnessed.

If the entity had feet, it would have burned a circle into the floor by now.

If the entity had eyes, it would have narrowed them in deep mediation.

If the entity had lips, it would have let out a frown of sparked interest.

Then its attention was brought back to the High Elf, Celestine Lucross. In her brief moment of weakness, the woman had exposed her mind like an open book, allowing the presence to peer inside and 'study' her memories with relatively little difficulty. To say the least, the contents of her dreams — or more specifically, her 'visions' — intrigued the entity even further. From what it could see, there was nothing but absolute conflict.

Screams, flames, _destruction_.

Cities of magnificent design burned in an unrelenting fire as people ran and screamed, retreating from an unforeseen foe. Blue, green, and pink light raced to catch up, claiming many victims in the process while howls of pain filled the air. Soldiers in strange armor attempted to fight back with equally strange weapons, only for some to meet the same fate as those they were trying to protect. And all in the while, a strange humming sound began to sing from the heavens, filling the already chaotic air with a sense of ominous dread. It was as if those who were still alive _knew_ what was about to happen.

Then powerful beams of hot light hit the ground, engulfing the cities and their inhabitants before the vision shifted over to something else.

A battlefield covered in blood and death. Bodies of strange creatures sprawled over the floor in messy heaps, mangled and mutilated beyond recognition. The smaller of the bunch appeared as if they were thrown all over the place, their avian comrades faring no better. The larger creatures, bearing armor of exotic color and design, were just the same as their smaller counterparts. Their lifeless eyes seemed to stare out into the distance, mandibles drooping aside listlessly.

And in the middle of the corpses were three massive figures.

Their olive green armor was stained with the life fluid of those that they so callously slaughtered. Their golden faceplates stared at the bodies with such an intensity that it seemed as if they were waiting for another fight. Held in their hands were a variety of unique weapons, each so different but yet spoke of powerful lethality.

The figure in the middle, bearing red markings instead of the pure olive color like its comrades, watched the bodies for a while before turning towards who the observing entity knew to be Celestine Lucross. Through her eyes, the presence watched as the armored figure set its golden visor onto her, staring with an intent that was just as enigmatic as whatever lay behind the strange helmet. The entity could feel the High Elf's growing fear and confusion.

Then after a moment of tense silence, the armored being gave a curt nod.

" _Ma'am._ "

The gesture was followed by the vision sweeping away into nothingness. To say the least, these scenes were what caught the entity's attention the most. Of course, there were more to be processed, but the presence couldn't help but find these particular ones to be rather... _special_.

' _Q_ _uite fascinating..._ '

As the observer repeated each scene over and over again, it was beginning to fit all of the pieces together, ' _Hmm...can it be?_ '

After a moment of contemplation, a process that took longer than it had expected, a surge of realization rushed through its mind like a shot of adrenaline, ' _Oh my...so they are finally here._ ' The presence murmured to itself.

Then a mere second later, there was a hint of excitement growing in it tone, ' _Excellent! It has been far too long..._ '

If the entity had a mouth, it would have shown a rather large smile. One that would have been filled with anticipation and elation.

' _...Reclaimers._ '


	5. An Act of Grace

**AN: Holy crap, I want to shoot my neck through a noose.**

 **Long time no see! Sorry for the long wait, but college had been a particular pain in the ass for the past few months, and I hadn't been able to go around writing as much as I used to pre-college days. Also I got gym membership, so that gives all the more motivation to stop being a total lazy ass now haha. However, I digress. As you can tell, this chapter is noticeably shorter than the previous ones. Don't fret. This is just a portion of the main chapter I'm working on currently, a sort of "preview" to show that I have no intention of abandoning this story (as the last time I updated was damn September, nearly a year ago). Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and m** **uch thanks to all who had the time and patience to stop by and read the story. It really warms my** **heart and soul.**

 **Feedback, reviews, etc, will be greatly appreciated. For those wondering about the cover art, it was made by ZenNiibi2. Go check her out on DeviantArt!**

 **Also, for those who saw the E3 Halo Infinite trailer...the Chief is BACK! No gameplay** **though :(**

* * *

 **Exitus Acta Probat**

 **Chapter 4: An Act of Grace**

 **Location: 'Wakefield' Village**

 **Date: [March 28, 2559] [10:15 UNSC Standard Military Time]**

* * *

The trap was almost ready to be sprung.

Placing the C-12 charge against the surface of the stone wall, Jerome proceeded to reach into his rucksack and retrieved two objects from the side pouches: a pair of remote detonators. He inspected them with the care of a surgeon before jamming the devices' back prods into the malleable mass of the explosive. Pressing a few buttons, the Spartan waited for a moment as the detonators armed themselves with quaint ' _beeps_ ', the devices linking the detonation code via a COM signal to his neural implant, as well as a backup one to Alice's.

If complications get in his way somehow, then she will take the reins.

Stealing a final glance at his work, Jerome stood up calmly and blew out a faint sigh. That was the last of the charges. The rest were placed in strategic locations all around the perimeter.

More specifically, in the likely areas where the hostile forces might be rearing their ugly heads.

It was a dicey gamble, especially given the amount of C-12 dedicated to the cause. Just a tiny portion of the explosive could obliterate a five story building in mere seconds. The _full_ _five_ Red Team had scattered as _ad hoc_ bombs were more than enough to blast a large hole through the side of a _Marathon_ -class heavy cruiser. As overkill as it seemed, however, the Spartans were not taking any chances on utilizing less.

Their concerning odds had persuaded them as much, after all.

As he swung the now empty rucksack onto his back, Jerome connected a COM channel to his distant teammate, "Alice, status."

" _Just finished up on my end, Jerome._ " The calm voice of Alice answered back instantly, " _What now?_ "

The leader of Red Team hummed in satisfaction, "Head back to the defensive line. Assist Sunray with the locals." Pausing for a moment, the Spartan redirected his gaze towards the looming distance of the town beyond.

"Don't wait on me. There's something I need to do." He added in.

" _Roger, wilco._ " Alice responded.

There was nary a question in her tone before she closed the channel with a click of faint static. Left to his devices, Jerome pressed his lips together as he let his eyes drift up to the roof of the building right next to him. The structure itself was about three stories tall, barely dwarfing the other one or two-story buildings surrounding it.

Good, that should provide a more than efficient vantage point.

Using the massive space behind him, the Spartan began to step back a few paces. He eventually stopped just as he positioned himself into a distinct imitation of a runner's stance. Then without a moment's pause, Jerome took off into a nimble sprint, his augmented muscles and the liquid crystal layer within his MJOLNIR doing most of the work for him.

In the time it would have taken a person to even _blink,_ the Spartan had already reached the proverbial finish line.

Halting just an arm's length away from the wall, Jerome pushed off his dominant leg to leap _high_ into the air. As he sailed upward, the Spartan shifted ever so slightly, allowing his left foot to gain solid purchase on the edge of an open window sill. Now came the second phase. While the weathered stone began to strain and crack from the sheer weight of his armor, the Spartan proceeded to mentally activate one of the MJOLNIR's few but very fruitful features: a rear-integrated thruster pack.

This useful component had served him well during his prior engagements with the Covenant. From jumping over plasma fire to stomping the heads of the aliens unfortunate enough to be in his path, the thrusters certainly provided the unorthodox but nonetheless welcome means for carrying out certain tasks.

In this case, however, the thruster pack will serve his needs in a much more...elementary capacity.

Jerome pushed himself off the window sill, _shattering_ the weakened stone that was underneath his foot in the process. As the Spartan soared upward once more, the thrusters flickered for just a split second before _roaring_ to life with bursts of hot flames. Forming a pair of small, fiery wings, the thrusters worked overtime to propel him at a distance _higher_ than before, augmenting his initial leap with efficiency and grace that would put even Olympian jumpers to shame.

To say the least, the extra boost provided more than enough leverage for him to reach his target.

Jerome let out a faint grunt as his right hand shot out in front of him. With a grip comparable to that of a hungry python, he grasped onto the edge of the rooftop, his lower body briefly making contact with the building before swinging back with uncontrolled momentum. Fortunately for the Spartan, whatever made up the material of his purchase wasn't quite as brittle as the window sill down below, allowing him the luxury to dangle over three stories of height like a small child hanging off of monkey bars.

The thought of such a thing tickled his mind with humor, if only for a fleeting moment.

Grabbing onto the ledge with his other hand, and pulling himself up with a brief burst of strength, it didn't take long for Jerome to gain what he had so restlessly desired: an effective vantage point. From his place upon the rooftop, he began to quickly but clearly make out every inch of the surrounding village...including the pillars of smoke ominously inching closer and closer towards his direction. The Spartan frowned slightly and zoomed his HUD onto the smoggy anomalies, hoping to get a better view of what he was up against.

A few seconds later, Jerome got his view alright. _What_ he saw, however, was starting to paint a rather unpleasant picture.

Bulldozing through the settlement like locusts in a garden, the hostile army appeared to have set it upon themselves to cause as much mayhem and destruction as possible. Sounds of intense battle and devastation began to reach his ears, while screams of pain and suffering seemed ever so prominent throughout the afflicted areas.

The feminine ones, especially, stood out the most for the Spartan.

Jerome narrowed his eyes darkly, trailing his gaze onto the individual monsters with hawk-like attention. To say the least, the details provided by Major Vaughan were pretty much spot on and accurate to a tee. Filling up the bulk of the force were the 'Orcs', beasts that appeared to be an amalgamation of muscle, fat, tusks, and _a lot_ of ugly. Complementing them were a similar number of smaller creatures, such as the 'Imps' and 'Goblins'.

A smorgasbord of other monsters made up the rest, some of which even surprising the Spartan due to their vaguely familiar nature. Minotaurs, ogres, hellhounds, etcetera. Creatures that belonged in ancient Earth mythology were somehow _very_ real and alive, causing all sorts of unwanted trouble right in front of his face.

At this point, Jerome didn't know whether to feel amused or concerned by the incredulous situation.

The Spartan shook his head, promptly steeling his focus as he started to calculate the amount of time it would take for the hostile army to eventually reach the estate. The process took about a total of three seconds in real time. Judging from their slow, methodical, but _somewhat_ constant pace, it wouldn't be much longer until the monsters made due their intended arrival.

Around twenty minutes by his rough estimation, a time he synchronized quickly to his HUD's timer. Jerome let out a low hum. More than enough time for his allies back at the estate to properly prepare.

For what was to come, at least.

Disengaging his zoomed HUD, Jerome was already on the move and stopped to peer over the edge of his improvised perch when he heard something that stiffly tensed his body like a statue. Screaming...feminine and _very_ close to his position. The Spartan's golden visor set itself sternly towards the looming ground below, studying the distance between himself and the floor as if he was preparing for an Olympic dive. It took no more than a second for Jerome to acquire his point of interest.

One which chilled his blood immediately upon discovery.

Deep in the alleyway below, a lone woman was struggling in vain to fend off a group of green, child-like creatures. Goblins, the Spartan recalled quickly, appearing no less grotesque and inhuman than the Orcs his Warthog had flattened beforehand. The little monstrosities let out a chorus of lustful cackles as their spindly hands held down the screaming woman, tearing apart her clothing and proceeding to fondle her bare body with undisguised eagerness. For the Goblins, it seemed as if they were having the appetizer before the main course, the time of their pathetic lives.

The sheer terror and hopelessness coming from their sobbing victim said otherwise, however.

A frown graced Jerome's hidden features. His hands, which had relaxed by his sides moments prior, were tightening into stiff fists at the horrifying sight before him. It appeared that there were a few stragglers still wandering about — some even meeting a hapless fate such as the woman down in the alleyway.

How...unfortunate.

Jerome let out a deep breath and loosened his fists. If the creatures were just as single minded as they appeared, then the atrocity below him was just one of the many currently taking place throughout the settlement. It was a bitter pill to swallow, even for the Spartan, but it was one that only served to reinforce his desire to quickly end all of this mayhem before it got out of hand.

Before more people become victim to the overwhelming chaos.

Jerome felt his body completely relax, his breathing remaining as serene as ever. _Nobody will be left behind_ , he promised — to these people or to himself, he didn't know. His golden visor zeroed onto the woman down below, who by this point had accepted her fate with whimpers and tightly shut eyes.

 _Nobody_...

So without pause or prompt, Jerome proceeded to calmly plunge straight off the rooftop.

To say the least, the journey towards below effectively made his entire body akin to that of a speeding MAC round, most likely as a result of gravity and the MJOLNIR's weight. This sudden change in velocity forced the Spartan to brace himself seconds early, once the ground made itself quickly apparent and closer than he had expected. A prick of weightlessness overcame his spine as air resistance whipped against the armor's form like winds from a powerful hurricane.

With mere moments to spare, Jerome tightened his muscles just in time before his feet finally made contact with the awaiting ground.

' _Boom!_ '

Upon contact, the floor held no resistance as it practically _shattered_ into a small crater underneath his feet, sending pieces of dirt and trash flying in every direction. A gust of wind also surged from the impact point, scaring off a couple of rodents and even a stray cat sneakily attempting to make a meal out of them. Their startled cries began to die off into the distance, including the windy disturbance that had frightened them in the first place.

As for the Spartan's quarry...

The goblins, who had prepared to delve deeper into their debauchery, were now focusing on the disruption in a mix of shock and agitation. However, their anger quickly dissipated into dread once the dust cloud departed, revealing the sight of Jerome standing up slowly from the crater. Beady eyes watched in stunned silence as the Spartan's titanium-covered form sauntered slowly out of the impromptu sinkhole, a display most appropriate for the Greek God of War himself.

With the Goblins' attention now diverted, their would-be victim had the chance to scoot away from her would-be assailants. Distancing herself safely, the woman had the breathing room to observe the surprising turn of events, her teary gaze darting between the Goblins and the approaching Spartan apprehensively. A choking silence swept the alleyway, none of the creatures daring to let out a sound as Jerome continued to inch closer.

That was until one of them made what was probably the _worst_ decision of its entire existence.

Either out of stupidity, bravery, or perhaps a combination of both, the goblin in question released a battlecry and started to charge at the Spartan with a rusted dagger. For the untrained eye, it would have looked like the goblin had crossed the distance in mere seconds, the dagger in its hand poising to strike where his heart would be. For most others, unprepared and all, it would have been game over right there and then.

Jerome, however, was not like most others.

Synthetic and natural adrenaline flowing through him, his body's augmentations provided most of the work when time began to slow at what seemed to snail's pace. As a result, the charging goblin appeared as mobile to him as a Grunt trying to waddle its way through a field of quicksand. Whatever chance the creature had at surprising him, whatever advantage it thought it had over him, was negated in a matter of milliseconds.

Spartan Time, he knew offhandedly. Good...it was time to show this thing the error of its ways.

The goblin, unaware of its impending fate, let out a vainglorious sneer at Jerome's unchanging advance. The creature jumped high into the air, lunging at the Spartan in a way reminiscent to the many Covenant Jackals that had attempted to pounce on him in the past. Within mere moments, the dagger would have made contact with his armored chest-plate.

 _'Clink!'_

That was when a golden barrier suddenly appeared at the point of impact, stopping the blade a mere inch away from its target. At the same time a foreign entity shot out quickly from underneath, firmly grasping onto the goblin's wrist before it could have time to react.

And just like that, the attack had been foiled completely.

The goblin let out a confused " _Rah_?", puzzled by the lack of blood or even a puncture wound. Blinking, and feeling whatever was left of its confidence wither into nothingness, it took note of its captured wrist before slowly looking up towards its newfound captor. Greeting the creature back was its own reflection, a startling golden mirror that conveyed its ugly features — and the sheer terror slowly developing on its face. To say the least, the goblin's thought process became overwhelmed by a single course of action, one that it thought was _very_ appropriate at that very moment.

It began to freak the hell out.

As the goblin kicked and flailed in the air with the occasional screams of frustration, its fruitless struggle sparked a flash of entertainment within the Spartan. Jerome indulged himself with the faintest trace of a grin as he watched the creature continue its vain attempt to wrestle a way out of his grasp. It was a sight that seemed like it was attempting to escape scolding discipline rather than desire for personal survival.

However, like all good things, the amusement was only short-lived, and it was promptly wiped away along with the smile on his face. _My turn_ , the Spartan thought. Then his vice-like grip started to apply even more pressure before...

...' _Snap!_ '

The horrendous sound of bones breaking echoed through the alleyway, along with the piercing wails of the unlucky goblin. Utter agony began to emanate from his victim, its struggle becoming even more violent and desperate in response to the newfound pain, but Jerome could honestly care less. A broken wrist wasn't enough to deter him. No, there was one more thing he wanted to do.

To put it simply, the next moments became nothing more than an unexpected blur.

Before the rest of the goblins could snap out of their horrified stupor, much less react fast enough to help out, their unfortunate comrade had found itself already on the move. Shrieks of absolute _terror_ , eclipsing even its previous pain, erupted from the goblin as the Spartan suddenly bursted into action, who swung his prey upward with a single rush of motion. For what seemed to be an eternity, the creature floated over his head like an angel's halo.

Then Jerome proceeded to hurl the entire weight of his living flail towards the floor below.

' _BAM!_ '

The ground cracked — no, _crumpled_ — from the projectile that was the goblin, the dirt shattering around the impact point like shards of broken glass. The creature itself fared no better, a broken wrist definitely the least of its concerns at the moment. But while the goblin's mind fell into a state of shock, too overwhelmed by the pain to give a damn about everything else, the Spartan decided to finish it off with a small measure of mercy. He had done _far_ worse to those greater than it, after all. And so using whatever momentum was left, he lifted his senseless victim into the air once more.

And went on to slam its body into the adjacent wall with no small amount of force.

' _BOOM!_ '

Stone, flesh, and bone were pulverized in a heartbeat, the impact leaving nothing unbroken in the process as a dusty cloud began to erupt from the point of origin. And once the Spartan finally let go of his quarry, letting the lanky arm drop listlessly, the film of particles left from the collision eventually parted to reveal a rather grizzly sight: A goblin-shaped indent pressed deeply into the stone, streams of blood flowing down the wall like some twisted depiction of a mural.

The goblin, in this case, was not so much the artist as it was the art itself. Mangled, unresponsive, _broken_. Nothing of its former self remained, the creature's cause of death best left to the imagination. By some miracle, the dagger was still held tightly in its hand, undamaged and unlike its poor owner.

A firm reminder of what the goblin had tried — and failed — to accomplish before its demise.

Letting out a satisfied huff at his handiwork, Jerome eyed the bloody carcass for a moment before his attention was caught by what seemed to be the sounds of low murmuring. The Spartan turned towards the source, his gaze settling on a rather unsurprising sight.

Standing from afar, the remaining goblins did nothing but stare at him, not once moving from their original spots. Their eyes bugged and bodies trembling, they shifted their attention from Jerome to what remained of their comrade in an apparent display of shock and horror. Evidently, they had been expecting an easy fight, not for the shoe to be on the other foot. And judging from the shaky hands, which held the weapons that provided their confidence, the goblins were losing their resolve with each passing second.

The trembling grew even worse by the sounds of approaching footsteps.

Completely ignoring their previous prey, the goblins could only watch in muted terror as Jerome continued his slow approach towards their direction. He deliberately took little effort in his strides, the MJOLNIR armor displaying nothing more than nonchalant ease. To a third party, it looked as if he was taking a simple stroll on the beach.

To the goblins, however, the Spartan appeared more akin to that of a grim reaper. An ominous and unstoppable entity, ready to steal all of their souls.

It seemed to be an eternity before Jerome finished his journey, who halted mere inches from the goblins themselves. The shadow produced from his massive bulk forced the creatures to look up, craning their heads back to compensate for the task. Once they took in the Spartan's considerable height, however, their stomachs collectively sunk to the floor. It didn't take a genius to figure out the size difference between the two parties.

A difference if one were to compare a wolf with household mouses.

This fact didn't escape the goblins, especially when that very same wolf was staring down at them silently. The gaze was hidden by the golden faceplate, monotone and indifferent to the goblins' plight.

What was the intent? Was there callous judgement behind that glass? Was there perhaps just simple and utter malice, as demonstrated by the display with the first goblin?

The reflective surface made it difficult to tell.

For a moment, nothing but silence reigned the alleyway. Terrified eyes met the Spartan's faceless visor. The surrounding shadows, even the walls themselves, appear to close in slowly onto the goblins. The air became more tense, cold and suffocating to their lungs all the same. Claustrophobia snared their minds, entrapping them like captured fish in a net. Their growing fear contrasted Jerome's own calm, motionless demeanor.

With no one making so much as a step, the impasse would have lasted for a while longer. That was, however, until the Spartan decided to break the tense stillness first. Slowly, he lowered himself to their level, maintaining eye contact with the terrified goblins despite his still considerable size advantage over them. And, for the first time since his entrance, he spoke out in a soft but booming voice.

One which echoed not only into the alleyway, but also into the creatures' heartless souls forever.

" _Boo!_ "

All hell broke loose.

Completely overcome by panic at that point, the goblins released a chorus of high-pitched screams and instinctively began to hightail from their would-be executioner. Prior thoughts of pillage and lust were swept away along with their bowel control, and the creatures made no attempt to see if the Spartan had followed them as they all flocked desperately towards the exit. Driven by fight-or-flight instincts, the goblins abandoned their weapons in favor of focusing on their own well-being, some resorting to even pushing and shoving each other until they eventually poured out of the alleyway like bats out of hell.

Their screams, even from a distance, were more than discernible to the alleyway's remaining occupants.

 _'All too easy._ '

Jerome stood up and maintained his previous posture, watching indifferently as the terrified goblins scurried off to the outside world. He let out a quiet huff. Now that those annoyances were out of the way, the Spartan could finally attend to a more _important_ matter at hand. Silently, he shifted his attention to the only other person present in the alleyway.

Against the far wall, the woman sat alone in a silent but quivering ball. If it was from her exposed body or the commotion, the Spartan didn't know, but he could easily tell she was frightened to the bone. The frequent sniffles and whimpers indicated as much.

A brief pang hit his heart at the sorry sight, but Jerome shook his head slightly and squashed it down just as quickly. There was no more time for pity. All that mattered at this point was the woman's safety, nothing more.

Someone else can do the sympathizing for him later.

So with a calm gait, Jerome made his way to the woman. She seemed to hear him perfectly despite her traumatized state, as her body flinched in near rhythm to each of the Spartan's heavy footsteps. Yet she chose to do nothing but continue hiding in her little shell, even when the behemoth eventually stood mere inches away from her.

"Ma'am?"

It took a moment before shaky sobs greeted in return, "P-please...leave me be."

The Spartan frowned, lowering himself to the woman's level, "I'm not going to hurt you." He said gently.

The woman didn't respond any further, and it seemed his closer proximity had provoked her to tuck her slender legs up even more tightly against her chest. Jerome resisted the urge to let out a sigh. He didn't have time for any more stubbornness.

"Those creatures are gone. You're safe now." Jerome insisted, forcing his voice to be non-threatening as humanly possible.

Finally, that was enough to draw out a reaction out of her. Momentarily shifting with obvious reluctance, the woman eventually brought her head up to meet Jerome's gaze. Her movements revealed tear-stained features, allowing the Spartan to take in every nuance and detail of her appearance.

Exotic.

That was a word Jerome didn't register in his mind, but felt was appropriate nonetheless. Chocolate skin, silky black hair, and a curvy body only genetics of the superior degree could provide. Alluring violet eyes stared back nervously, nearly matching in shade to the tattered remains of her clothing. Had he been anything _but_ a Spartan, he would have been floored by the sheer beauty in front of him.

However, that was about as far as conventional features were concerned. A closer look at the woman and Jerome felt himself tensing up once he noticed something about the woman that stuck out like a sore thumb. _Two_ of them, to be exact.

' _Her ears..._ '

They were long and pointy, nearly surpassing his index finger in length. Tucked behind her curly hair, the fact they were nervously twitching on their own accord more than confirmed their already peculiar nature. It was almost like they had a mind of their own...

Then as quickly as he could physically react, a sudden realization came over him.

' _She's not human._ '

The Spartan froze stiffly at the revelation. A friendly non-human. A honest-to-god non-human who wasn't actively trying to kill him. Quite the jarring contrast to those creatures from earlier, much less the Covenant.

Jerome narrowed his eyes slightly.

Not only was he intrigued by the discovery, he was momentarily stunned by it as well. For the first time in a while, Jerome was caught in a rare moment of indecision. His stern features hardened further as he let out a wisp of air through his lips.

What the hell should he do?

' _She's not human..._ '

However, it seemed that time would only allow him the opportunity to ponder about it later when a series of wails suddenly snapped him out of his thoughts. The Spartan blinked once, noticing the woman had spontaneously erupted into a sobbing mess. Jerome watched in bewilderment as she pounded her heels against the floor frantically in an attempt to scoot back more, despite already touching the wall behind her. The utter fear in her eyes was unmistakable, tears trailing down her cheeks and quivering lips.

For a moment, nothing but pure confusion reined Jerome's mind. She was afraid of him? But why? He hadn't done anything except remain in place, standing still like a statue...

Then another wave of realization hit the Spartan.

 _Of course_. She wasn't human. If her strange ears indicated to some sort of enhanced hearing, which she had demonstrated moments prior, then her other senses must be just as heightened — including her eye-sight. The poor woman must have picked up on his tense body language, and assumed the worst was about to happen to her. No wonder she seemed so frightened.

This time, Jerome let out a faint sigh.

Human or not, the woman was still an innocent, one unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfires of conflict. Duty and personal morals already made her safety a paramount objective, reservations be damned. Any other option would be just unacceptable.

No more missteps. No more misunderstandings.

He spent seconds mentally repeating that mantra before returning his attention to the woman with a firm gaze, "Ma'am."

"Go away!" She screamed, continuing to push herself against the wall futilely.

Stopping for a moment, the Spartan began to try from a different angle, "I'm not going to hurt you." Jerome repeated, raising a hand towards her calmly.

That strategy didn't work either, since the woman responded by lashing out instinctively at him. She didn't even get past striking distance before another armored hand shot out from the side, ensnaring her wrist with a grip reminiscent to that of a cobra. Within the blink of an eye, the woman was now completely at the Spartan's mercy.

"Let me go!" She wailed at him while pounding on the titanium gauntlet to no avail, "Let me go! Let me go..."

Struggling against his steel-like grip for a while, the woman fought until she eventually lost the energy to resist any further. She slumped against the wall lazily, her body lax and unmoving. Despite her listless state, hot tears continued to flow down her face freely.

"P-please...leave me be." She sobbed, gazing at his golden visor fearfully.

When the Spartan didn't respond at first, the woman let out a few shaky weeps and hiccups before looking down at her feet. She closed her eyes shut, trembling as she did so, but nonetheless waited in silence for the inevitable. If she was going to meet her end, she might as well face it with the sliver of dignity left within her. However, whatever was supposed to come next, whatever horrible fate she had expected to fall upon her in that very moment...never came.

Instead, something quite different took place.

"Ma'am." Her ears picked up the Spartan's stern voice, "Look at me."

A part of the woman wanted to say no, to use whatever little spirit she had to defy her captor one last time. On the other hand, the more sensible part of her yelled otherwise, to do nothing rash as to not give any more incentive for the mysterious giant to bring harm upon her. It was an internal tug-of-war that seemed to last for an eternity, but eventually both sides gave way to just simple, growing curiosity.

Well...it wasn't like she had anything to lose anyway.

The woman would have sighed at her own brashness, had her mind and body been in a better state. Hit with a brief burst of courage, she opened her eyes and tilted her head up to meet the Spartan's gaze. At that moment, she had fully expected to see the same faceless mirror again. The very one that displayed her distorted reflection, as well as the one that brought terror into the hearts of her previous captors.

What actually greeted her back, however, was quite the pleasant surprise.

Instead of the usual golden surface, there was nothing but a clear, translucent glass — and beyond that was the upper half of a face. A _human_ face, the woman realized quickly to her shock. Despite her blurry, tear-filled vision, she could still make out some of the Spartan's exposed features, from his unhealthy pale complexion to the numerous scars marring his youthful skin. Everything was within plain sight for her to take in completely.

Including his eyes. By the Goddess, she had _never_ seen such silver eyes before.

Cool, calculating, temperate. Those were what they embodied perfectly. Not only did they radiate stern intelligence, they also seemed to pierce right through her body as well as her soul. The cold, neutral nature of his eyes was pretty much in line with what the woman had expected for someone so intimidating.

However, there was something else.

Alongside the frigid essence was a certain... _gentleness_ , so subtle and imperceptible she just barely noticed it. It was quite the strange contrast for sure, but one that somehow complemented the mysterious giant so well. Add to the fact it was all directed at her — and her alone — the woman began to experience sudden feelings of warmth and security she hadn't felt in such a long, _long_ time.

Yes, she felt warm. She felt _safe_. The woman didn't know why, but she _wanted_ to trust the Spartan, trust him with her life. It just felt...right, to say the least.

So caught up in her mesmerized state, she didn't realize her trembling had stopped nor did she notice her lack of tears. She didn't even realize the grip on her wrist had lessened considerably as well.

"See, I'm human. Nothing like those creatures." Suddenly her attention was snapped back to the present by Jerome's voice, "I can help get you to safety. Please, trust me."

The woman bit her lip at the offer. Just moments ago, she had been assaulted and nearly violated by a group of Goblins, but it seemed fate took kindly upon her struggle by sending a stranger in equally bizarre armor to her rescue. It sounded almost too good to be true.

"You..will?" She asked timidly.

The Spartan nodded, his exposed eyes gazing at her patiently, "Only if you allow me, Miss...?"

Had the woman been less jaded, she would have laughed at his show of politeness in such a situation. So instead she settled for a small but amused smile, which lasted only for a moment as she made up her mind and moved to answer his query. It was the least she could do after what the Spartan had done for her.

"Campbell. Grace Campbell."

Jerome hummed, apparently satisfied by her cooperation, "Okay, Miss Campbell. Get ready." He said while his visor changed back to its original, polarized state.

Grace felt a tug of disappointment by the fact she couldn't see his face anymore, but it was soon overtaken by confusion as she attempted to figure out what the Spartan had meant.

"'Get ready?' Get ready for what..."

Grace didn't get a chance to ponder further when she felt a tingly sensation along her back, and the woman found herself suddenly lifted off the ground with such speed, she couldn't even react. Letting out a brief yelp, she flew in the air before landing gently in the arms of the Spartan, who began to carry her bridal style. Grace recovered quickly and looked up to glare at Jerome, but her displeasure was short-lived upon meeting his neutral, faceless stare.

It wasn't hard to know why, considering the position she was in.

Checking to make sure the blushing woman was secured in his arms, the Spartan proceeded to scan his surroundings with one mechanical sweep of his helmet. Every crook and cranny was noted down to the tiniest detail, even his latest kill on the wall, while his attention shifted to the motion tracker every now and then.

It wouldn't do good to have unwanted observers, after all.

Detecting nothing out of the ordinary, Jerome allowed himself to relax. He let out a quiet sigh. It took quite a bit of time, longer than he would have liked personally, but the Spartan felt satisfied enough knowing that he had just knocked down two birds with one stone — and with plenty of time to spare, according to his HUD's timer.

Now it was about time for him to rejoin the fight.

Jerome humored himself with a moment of tranquil silence before his gaze was casted towards the direction of the estate. A feeling of determination washed over him, and the Spartan wasted no more time dillydallying by shifting into a runner's stance again once more. A staunch expression hid behind his visor.

One breath in, one breath out.

Tucked in his arms, on the other hand, Grace felt a strange change in the air. She looked up at Jerome again, but this time with a nervous but curious raise of her brow. Absolutely oblivious to what was about to happen next.

"H-Hey, what are you doing—"

Then as if a switch had been flipped, the Spartan suddenly took off in a blur of motion. A trail of dust was left slowly rising in his wake, blanketing the air with a cloud of dirty soil and Grace's terrified screams. Fortunately for the unlikely pair, there was nary a living soul in the area to witness their little show.

Except for the stray cat from before, which closely watched the retreating pair from an open window sill high above. The feline meowed as it played with a dead rat by its paws, its green eyes glowing with hidden intelligence and curiosity.


End file.
